


Mind Rape

by JessieMay



Category: Dragon Ball, Dragon Ball Z
Genre: Angst, Dende/Vegeta Close Platonic Relationship, Depression, Eventual Happy Ending, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Grievous Misuse of Dragon Balls, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mindbreak, Rape/Non-con Elements, Sexual Torture, Slow Build, Suicidal Thoughts, Tentacles
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-01-02
Updated: 2016-08-03
Packaged: 2018-01-07 04:48:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 29
Words: 81,913
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1115702
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JessieMay/pseuds/JessieMay
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Buu Saga Cannon Divergence, in which Goku is absorbed and Vegeta is the last defender left to face Buu. However, with Buu's latest and most drastic transformation, he doesn't simply want to defeat the Saiyan prince. </p><p>With Goku out of the way and a new and more powerful Buu threatening the planet, will Vegeta be able to take up the role of Earth's hero?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Mind Rape

 

"Captured and Used" courtesy of reader and friend, Ulrike (http://www.y-gallery.net/user/ulrike/) 

Thanks Ulrike!

* * *

 

 

Vegeta landed in a grove of thorns. When he opened his eyes moments later, he could see a large spot of light from where he'd been thrown through the great dome of twisted reeves.

To his discomfort he'd landed on a large, slanted boulder. The hole above formed a golden beam of light that shined down upon his large, rock mantel, and made the prince look like a sacrifice being offered to the gods.

Vegeta's head rolled around weakly and his body ached from the battle he was very badly losing. Since Buu's latest transformation it was clear that what small shred of a chance Vegeta might have stood before was now completely obliterated.

Before the Saiyan could even attempt to stand and prepare himself for the next beating, Buu appeared. In a flash, the pink mutant, in his towering gleaming entirety, was standing at his splayed feet.

Vegeta, who had done nothing but been thrown around for the past half hour, was not alarmed by his opponent's punctual return; Although Vegeta's energy was depleted and he'd long been running on fumes, Buu was still fresh and quick and had yet to keep the Saiyan waiting. What did alarm Vegeta was the sudden, violent rippling of his waxy pink skin.

Vegeta watched with weary interest as tentacle-like appendages began bursting from the creature's form like a dozen frenzied snakes. Within seconds, the thick, rubbery bands had wrapped themselves around the Saiyan's limbs and pinned him where he lay on the boulder.

For some time, Vegeta didn't struggle. Instead, the trapped Saiyan chuckled to himself, coughing up specks of blood in the process. It had just occurred to him in that bleak moment that he'd finally managed to beat Kakarot, if only because, by some miracle,  he'd avoided getting killed first. During what was surely the last few moments of the prince's life (in which, he'd surly spend getting thrown around and stomped on), Vegeta was finally the most powerful Saiyain alive. Unfortunately, given the circumstances, he wouldn't have much time to bask in his long overdue triumph. Of that too, he could appreciate the irony. If no one else was around to laugh about it, the prince of Saiyans still had the presence of mind to.

Vegeta heaved another painful chuckle, which probably looked to Buu like nothing more than the wheezing breaths of a broken and dying body. The erratic little huffs where the only sound in the otherwise silent grove.

As he lay in the clutches of the tyrannous mutant, the last warrior of Earth was struck with the hollowness of the situation. For the first time that Vegeta could recall, he was badly losing a battle and no one was around to either mock him, pity him, or offer him aid. His self-deprecating laugh died slowly as he pictured the would-be reactions of the people he'd come to know best, the people who were no longer with him: Gohan, with all if his father's self-righteous heroism, would pity Vegeta and scold him for not accepting assistance; Kakarot would likely go so far as to step in, and even further to save his life as he'd done on many occasions in the past; Piccolo would... well, Vegeta never quite had a handle on Piccolo. But none of them were there now and so no one, neither enemy nor reluctant ally, would see him fall. In another life it might have come as a comfort to Vegeta knowing that no one could bear witness to his defeat, but now only a heavy feeling of alienation overtook him.

Wherever the others were now-- dead or trapped in the innards of Buu-- he wasn't sure, but he could guess that he was about to join them. Surprisingly, this realization did bring him comfort.

As a thick, snake-like strip of Buu wound itself around his neck, Vegeta decided that if he would die-- and this was looking increasingly likely-- it would not be without a Saiyan-worthy fight. He almost laughed again, both hating his pride and grateful to it at the same time. The pinned Saiyan kicked his legs and thrashed his arms and could swear he surprised Buu with the sudden outburst; the tentacles were all but thrown off of him.

Buu must have realized then that the prince still had some strength left to be squeezed out of him; his many tentacles worked even quicker and wound themselves more tightly around Vegeta's rallying limbs and midsection. All the while, Buu's arms rested leisurely at his side, as if to further bring home the fact that this was hardly an effort for him. Vegeta grunted and yelped as he was engulfed by the many extremities of Buu. For all his efforts however, the tentacles only seemed to restrain him with all the more ease.

When it looked like the feisty Saiyan's rage was well subdued, Buu closed the gap between them again. However this time, Vegeta couldn't help but notice an odd air to the creature's demeanor. As Buu hovered near his captive, his face became illuminated in the heavy spotlight. Vegeta's struggles began to fade away as he looked into the deep, crimson eyes of his opponent. Buu's eyes had undergone a change since swallowing his last victim, a change that made the hollowness return to Vegeta's chest. The stupidity and juvenile arrogance that had once defined the pink features of Buu had been resculpted and refined into a new maturity and calm and something else the prince thought looked like... curiosity? The subtle but undeniable semblance to an old ally rendered Vegeta breathless.

He tried to turn away but his eyes wouldn't budge. They were locked on the hauntingly familiar face. Buu moved closer still to lean on the bolder between Vegeta's slightly parted legs, which were kept subdued by the strong tentacles. The monster was studying him.

"I know what you're thinking," Buu finally said in a voice both smoother and more dignified than Vegeta had expected. He paused provocatively, staring into Vegeta as if he really were reading the Saiyan's thoughts.

The pink creature's entire manner made Vegeta uneasy and he wondered what game Buu was playing now.

"Having absorbed Goku, I now have his thoughts and memories. In a sense, our minds are one," Buu explained and his lips widening in a fanged grin. "You want to know what Goku is thinking?"

Vegeta grimaced at the question that was more of a statement and averted his eyes to focus instead on the tentacles surmounting him.

"I can tell you that he's not very impressed with your performance here. Not that he expected much from someone who was already beaten once before... by me!" Buu recalled with an elated smile. "And in a much weaker form too!"

Vegeta would not look again at the unnerving features of Buu's latest transformation. The things the monster was saying were all a part of his game, Vegeta asserted to himself. Buu's newly developed facial features and ability to speak in complete sentences did not mean his one-track mind was any less bent on destruction. He was just trying to get under the prince's skin, play with with his food before he ate it.

Vegeta enthused his efforts at escape, thrashing even harder than before, hoping to, if anything, derail the alien from his current train of thought. However, it was a futile attempt. As Vegeta twisted and convulsed, the quicksand-tentacles seemed only to overpowered him quicker, while Buu himself still appeared totally undaunted.

"Do you know," came Buu's voice again, and Vegeta flinched at the sound. "That he loves to watch you struggle?" Buu tilted his head, taking in the prince's conflict before adding, almost appreciatively. "It's what you do best."

Vegeta seethed.

"You try so hard," said the mutant. "But you'll never beat me." The last part was said in not the voice of Buu but in another voice, one that caught Vegeta so off guard that he abandoned his attempts to free himself.

When he looked up, he saw that the features which were first only vaguely similar to those of his old ally and nemesis, were now identical: where first there was a waxy pink shell, was now soft peach skin; where first there was a large obtrusive antenna, now sat unruly dark hair.

"Beaten again, Vegeta," said the thing with both the face and voice of Kakarot. "You're too easy, old friend."

Vegeta's breath caught in his throat. One of The Thing's frighteningly Saiyan hands came up to grab Vegeta's jaw. It stared him squarely in the eye for a long while and the prince realized then that the face, which in all other ways was perfectly identical to Kakarot's, had venomous red irises that could only be Buu's. This realization had a calming effect on Vegeta.

"Tell me I'm better than you,” it said with a dark smile that did _not_ belong on that face. "Tell me I'm superior in every way."

"You aren't Kakarot! Stop your games!"

"Oh?" The Thing's tone was challenging.

Vegeta tried to jerk his head away but the grip on his jaw was painfully firm. Mercifully, the Kakarot-creature released his hold.

"Do you remember when we first met," it asked, eyes brightening in a somehow very unKakarot way. "You were so... _mmm_ \-- proud then, weren't you?"

Vegeta would not be fooled by this monster who was not Kakarot, no matter what he claimed to know. He would not let Buu get under his skin. Vegeta's lips tightened and he shot the foul mutant an unblinking glare.

Buu took no notice.

"You were...so small then-- well, you're small now-- but I remember seeing you then and thinking how _oddly_ small you were." The face of Goku regarded Vegeta thoughtfully for a moment before continuing with renewed enthusiasm. "And Nappa was so large! I wondered how it was that you came to be the leader. Then I met you and it was clear!" There was an almost good-natured laugh in the creature's voice and the gleam of a genuine smile in his eyes that caught them both off guard.

Vegeta watched in confusion as the Kakarot creature stammered for a moment, apparently realizing that something had gone wrong. Gone was the offensive smile that had temporarily taken over his features. What replaced it was a searching look, almost ashamed. Whatever had caused the brief moment of serenity was a mystery to even Buu. While the eyes still betrayed the dominant presence of Buu, that kind smile had been quintessential Kakarot. Vegeta knew that Buu had intended to taunt him with his insight into his old nemesis' mind, however it had backfired somehow. He wondered if Kakarot, while captured, still had some hold over the monster.

A very unnatural look of wrath suddenly darkened the stolen features of Goku. Buu had composed himself and was now keen to take his anger at the momentary loss of control out on Vegeta. He tightened his tentacles around his captive.

Vegeta tensed as his throat and limbs were painfully squeezed.

He tried thrashing again but it was just as futile if not more so than before. His physical agony was quickly joined by humiliation when he heard the fanatical laughter of Kakarot-- not Buu, but Kakarot. It was a sound that would haunt Vegeta's night's for years after. Vegeta struggled and struggled and the horrible, hacking laughter seemed to go on, echoing in his mind, which was rapidly going dark from lack of oxygen. Reluctantly but inevitably, Vegeta felt the fight leave him.

The prince abandoned his struggle and when Buu was confident that his weakened captive wasn't "playing possum", he eased the tentacle from around the strained neck. Vegeta's head fell bluntly to the rock surface beneath and he turned away from Buu. Though he had exhausted his stamina and could not put up much of a fight, he would not indulge the manipulative mutant by appearing to be listening to him.

As Vegeta's breathing calmed and began to quiet, Buu's own breath quickened in apparent excitement. He seemed to think that the upper hand had been surrendered to him. He lowered his face to Vegeta's on the large and slanted rock and rested his arms on either side of the Saiyan's head. The placement of the mutant's hips grazing against his own was a distant thought in Vegeta's weary mind.

"You never could even approach his power, could you? But you just keep at it..."

Buu had taken on his true form again and Vegeta felt relief despite himself.

"Do you like being dominated, Vegeta?" Buu asked softly, tentatively examining the sweat-drenched face and pulsing neck of the Saiyan below him. "That's the only thing I can figure, because you just keep coming back for more."

Vegeta gritted his teeth but still would not face his tormentor. This, unfortunately, only seemed to entice Buu and he trudged on.

"Was it Frieza?" he ventured, even more softly. "Is that where it started? Was it your father?"

Vegeta felt a jolt through his body at the audacity of the question and his breath hitched in his chest.

"Will you answer me, Vegeta?" Buu's many tentacles throbbed coaxingly around Vegeta's limbs.

While Buu's voice mastered a steady tenderness, his many tentacles abused him. The bands around the Saiyan's thighs and wrists were wound so tightly that, as they coiled around him, they began to tear away at the fabric of his pants and ware at his skin.

"I find I have this fascination for you growing inside of me. I can't explain it," Buu continued more softly, his face close and breath hot and humid on Vegeta's cheek. "For whatever reason, I want to better understand you. I have so many questions to ask..."

Vegeta knew that the absorption of Kakarot would have a softening effect on Buu, but not to this extent. While the new traits might have been the reason the beaten Saiyan was still alive, he found he much preferred being thrown through rock walls to this bizarre and unnerving display of tenderness.

As Buu whispered intently to him, Vegeta's strength was slowly gathering. Quietly, he began to struggle again.

"Will you answer me?" Buu pleaded. "Talk to me, Vegeta. I want to know you. I know you want to know about me too! Having absorbed Goku, I now share his mind. I know how he feels about you. And somehow those feelings have ...mixed and welled up into a kind of fixation in me." He trailed off, a hand hovering over Vegeta's chest, as though he was hesitant to touch him with his hands, finally placing it instead on the rock beside Vegeta's head. "I have all this new information, but it doesn't add up...It fascinates me, this relationship."

Vegeta felt a strand of his hair being absently tugged and in the corner of his eyes saw Buu leaning down further as if to smell it.

"I want to feel that," Buu was by his ear again, lips grazing Vegeta's skin. "How you worship him."

At last, Vegeta could stand to hear no more.

"What do you know?" He spat, jerking his head around and startling Buu. "What are you talking about?"

A rogue tentacle quietly glided beneath the rim of Vegeta's tattered shirt and gently caressed his tense abdomen, as if to calm him. Vegeta felt the tender ministrations of the tentacle but did not break from his fiery glare.

Buu grinned a triumphant grin at the rise he was able to coax from his mostly silent captive.

Ignoring Vegeta's venomous stare, Buu lowered his lips once more to the Saiyan's ear. "I've seen you rush to clash with him. It's in my mind. I've seen you moan when he overtakes you. Would you do anything for him?"

At this, Vegeta felt his thighs being parted by the tentacles.

"Do you owe him that because he killed Frieza?"

Vegeta heard the question but his focus was suddenly pulled to his parted thighs and Buu's hips which now filled the space there.

"Vegeta?"

"What are you doing?" Vegeta's voice came out softly in his confusion.

"Don't you owe me something?" 

It was Kakarot's voice. 

"Stop this," Vegeta barked, eyes snapping up to Buu's with a warning. "Fight me with honor! Enough of your games!" Whatever sick methods Buu was trying to use to unravel him, Vegeta had had enough.

The mutant only rolled his eyes and sighed.

"Oh, you'd like me to beat you some more?" He said, humoring his captive. "Vegeta, haven't you humiliated yourself enough today? No, I think we'll stay here. And besides," he purred, nuzzling the Saiyan's ear. "you haven't answered any of my questions."

"You fool! Release me and fight!"

"I'll release you," Buu countered, "but you have to do something for me," and he moved to look directly into his quarry's eyes.

Vegeta, noting some significance in the dark look, arranged his own expression to communicate such disgust and loathing that there would be no question in Buu's mind that the prince would die before doing him any favors.

Buu didn't doubt the glare, but currently the alien's curiosity greatly surpassed his lust for destruction.

"Just play along a little," Buu said in a pleading tone not unlike the child-like third class Saiyan. "I just want to know about you...I can't believe that Goku-- your Kakarot-- never quenched this curiosity. He wasn't as simple-minded as he seemed."

Buu looked as though he was searching for something a moment as he furrowed his brow and stared at the ground.

"But there's nothing here," he continued, slightly exasperated. “It's like there's a wall there...all these observations but only observations-- no confrontation. It's as if he never speaks to you about what's so obviously here."

Vegeta stared off as well. It all sounded like a bunch of psychotic rambling to him. Nonetheless, a sharp ache welled in the prince every time Buu mentioned Kakarot. It was the worst when the mutant chose to refer to the other Saiyan and their association in the present tense and not the past, where Vegeta now knew him to be. Kakarot was gone along with the others and Vegeta was alone with this monster who had an inexplicable interest in him. Of course Vegeta and Kakarot had never spoken to one another in such a way, there was never any need-- no room for such petty discussions. What they have-- _had_ \-- was beyond discussion. That's how they wanted it. And that's how it would always be.

The familiar hollowness returned to his chest.

Whatever it was they'd had, it would never be anything more now. Buu had seen to that.

"Or maybe he tried..."

Blood-red eyes slowly rounded on Vegeta and the prince realized with a grimace that the monster was still speaking.

"Maybe it's you who never spoke to him," the pink alien was watching him eagerly and it dawned on the confined Saiyan that, while physically bested he was, he might actually have the upper hand. Buu could beat blood and sweat and maybe even tears out of Vegeta but he couldn't beat his thoughts out.

"Then that is something the two of you truly _do_ have in common," the prince said, a defiant grin spreading on his busted lips. "Because I'm not speaking to you either." Vegeta reveled in the disappointment that passed for an instant over his foe's face, and cherished his slight upper hand as he knew he wouldn't have it for long. He even allowed himself a biting chuckle at the fury that flashed in Buu's eyes soon after. As quickly as it appeared however, It was hidden and replaced with a dark grin of Buu's own.

The two stared at each other, laughing together for a moment as if sharing in the joke. There was a thick tension in the air.

"Oh, Vegeta," Buu sighed when his laughter finally subsided. "You _will_ talk to me. And I'll make you."

The promise was promptly followed by a sudden rush of activity from the many surrounding tentacles. Vegeta's arms were lifted and pinned above his head against the rock, his legs pried further open, and Buu forced his full weight upon him.

"And then," the impassioned monster breathed. "I'm going to show you how weak you really are."

Vegeta felt even more pressure come down between his thighs.

Was it possible that he'd missed this the entire time?

Buu was grinding his hips intermittently into Vegeta's, a wildness suddenly possessing him. The fallen prince could not believe the sharp turn the fight had taken and he was so completely harassed that he couldn't focus his mind enough to work it all out. He could only grunt as a tentacle wrapped itself around his head and muffled his hoarse cries like a gag.

The clothed thrusts were hard and not meant to be pleasurable, Vegeta was sure. He imagined this was Buu's final act of dominance over him. As confusing as it was, Vegeta was utterly humiliated to be handled so lewdly by an enemy. Physical abuse and taunts he could handle, but this was a whole new method of disrespect that, in all his long years of kneeling at the boots of the more powerful, Vegeta had never experienced. His face became flushed as he shut his eyes in an effort to focus on anything but his agony and shame.

Buu reveled in the wonderful discomfort he was causing his rebellious captive as he crushed Vegeta's most sensitive appendage between them.

Slowly but thoroughly Buu thrust against the spread prince as though he were penetrating him. He found the explicit act did wonders in crumbling the arrogant Saiyan's pride as he watched tears begin at the brim of his eyes and a look of utter discomfort claim his features. The grunts from the gagged Saiyan grew more ragged and his face more red with each suggestive roll of Buu's hips.

Before Vegeta realized it, the grinding between his thighs had stopped. However, his poor scrotum continued to throb furiously from the coarse handling.

Vegeta dared not open his eyes, afraid of seeing what else the pink monster had in store. But the weight of the other's body was soon lifted off of him completely. A brief moment of relief was then clouded by dread as he felt his own body being raised from the rough boulder and strung up by the confining tentacles.

When Vegeta finally opened his eyes, he looked down at his own body upright and hovering just above the ground. His clothes were tattered where the tentacles had torn them but somehow still clinging to him feebly, much like Vegeta was clinging to his resolve.

"Ready to talk to me, Princey?" he heard his tormentor say. Was the monster so starved for attention that he had to go through this entire, gruesome process every time he wanted to have a conversation with someone? The unexpectedly lighthearted thought passed through Vegeta's mind, easing him for a moment that he cherished while it lasted. He laughed inwardly despite the severity of the situation. All the same, he wasn't about to make it easier on Buu.

Vegeta said nothing and let his head lull to one side. In the past, he'd undergone countless hours of torture by enemies and even people he'd thought to be allies, and never once had he caved under their efforts. Although Vegeta had never been faced with such a torture as this, he would face it like all the rest. He would not break.

"I had hoped it wouldn't be so easy," Buu growled appreciatively and Vegeta could hear the grin. "Now is the real fun."

Buu took a step closer to the dangling prince who hung, spreadeagled, at Buu's eye level. The calculative creature let his eyes wander over the defenseless form before resting on his tired face. "You must be in pain..." he reached out a pink clawed hand and gently cupped the Saiyan's sore member, soothing it through the thin cloth of his pants.

Vegeta was so wrapped up in his own discomfort and yearning for an end that for a few moments, he didn't even register the hand on him. A low moan escaped his lips and he gazed blearily around as though waking from a long sleep. When he realized the moan had been his own, he looked dangerously up at his enemy and his eyes said, with all the venom he could muster, _don't you dare_.

Buu's hand continued while his own fiery eyes stared back into Vegeta's.

The Saiyan seethed. This was intolerable. This was not how it was done.

"Stop this," he said firmly.

Buu took a bold step forward and was now as close as he could get to the fuming Saiyan without risking getting bitten.

"Stop this now."

The hand continued, more sensually now and Buu's breath was on his face.

Vegeta was not comfortable, to say the least, with this sort of touching and he wished the bastard mutant would throw him around, make him hurt and bleed-- hell, even the awful grinding was preferable to this. Not even Bulma had been granted this kind of intimacy. Sex was one thing but _this_.Putting himself in someone elses hands-- at someone else's mercy in this way-- was a vulnerability he found unfathomable.

The tentacles around his body, whose roughness he'd grown used to, were wiggling around him now with a foreign tenderness. The tentacles around his thighs began to slither up the tattered cloth toward his groin and more tentacles began wrapping themselves around his chest, tearing away at what was left of his weathered shirt. He felt a soft rubbery appendage envelope a nipple and he gasped.

"Buu! Stop this!" he cried, voice hoarse and cracking. "This has gone far enough! Fight me!" Vegeta did well to keep the the plea out of his voice but he found his resolve was quickly fading as a thumb rubbed over the clothed head of his hardening length. He grunted in frustration.

"Just a little more... do you like that?" Buu asked, knowing the answer but surprising himself with how badly he wanted to hear it from the resolute prince.

Vegeta gave a disgusted cry. Tentacles were now rubbing both of his hardened nipples in slow, concentrated circles while Buu's hand worked his member with a terrible grace. Vegeta was so distracted by the sensations overrunning his body that his mouth hung open. 

Buu was not worried about getting too close now. He watched, fascinated, as the proud prince reacted openly to the stimulus to which his body was subjected. Tentacles were now inside Vegeta's tattered spandex pants and were winding themselves up his throbbing member. Vegeta shuddered and his head fell to his chest. Buu's hand left Vegeta's shaft (now being taken care of by a tentacle) and buried itself in his hair. Using the dark main as a tether, he tugged Vegeta's head back to attention.

"Look at me," Buu said into the flushed face of the prince.

Vegeta slowly opened his eyes and they rolled around before settling half-lidded on Buu.

"Just," Vegeta grunted. "Kill me."

Buu hushed him softly and brought up one tentacle to fully quiet the prince. It slowly breached Vegeta's lips and twisted around to allow itself to be fully moistened by Vegeta's compliant tongue. When it slowly extracted itself from the prince's lax mouth, a trail of saliva followed.

Vegeta groaned as the tentacle then moved around to where the Saiyan's eyes could no longer follow.

A wet spot of precum spread at the crotch of his pants. Vegeta tried desperately to not convey the pleasure he was feeling in his face. His breaths came hard through his teeth and his eyes seemed to struggle to keep from rolling to the back of his head.

"Do you want me to penetrate you?" Buu asked casually.

Vegeta's eyes shot open. The tentacle that had left his mouth moments before was now grazing over his clothed buttocks and getting dangerously close to his orifice. Buu's words began to fully register in his weary mind.

"You don't want that, do you?"

The look on Buu's face told Vegeta that he was trying to manipulate him again and Vegeta was seriously considering caving. The prince had been humiliated enough and he was certain that nothing could be worse than being sodomized by his enemy.

Ignoring the pained outcry from his pride, Vegeta consented lowly. "No more."

Buu smiled at the small victory. "That's good, Vegeta. That's good. Then admit to me that you love to be dominated. Say, 'I am weak and love to be dominated.' and say, 'I want you to dominate me.'"

Vegeta paused for what must have been too long. He felt a rubbery tentacle of moderate size slide beneath a tear in the back of his spandex and begin to rub coaxingly against his opening. Vegeta tensed hard and found the words had left him. Buu recited them again in an antagonistic effort at aiding the struggling Saiyan. However, Vegeta found that, try as he might, the words would not form in his mouth. They wouldn't happen. Had it turned out that such a consummate defeat was in fact beyond the prince of Saiyans? No matter how he willed it, he could not say the words. His pride would not allow it. And that, Vegeta realized with some difficulty, was a kind of victory in itself. 

He couldn't glory in his personal triumph for long. When Vegeta hadn't responded after several moments, Buu must have taken the silence as his decision. The thick and smooth tentacle pressing at his entrance did not wait but penetrated him with a single punishing plunge.

It was a small mercy that it had been moistened breifly by Vegeta's mouth earlier. Still, Vegeta howled with a voice he didn't know he had left.

Buu smiled and decided he was almost as pleased with this outcome as he would have been had Vegeta complied.

The prince hung hopelessly by his wrists as Buu's appendages raised and dropped him like a puppet onto the thick tentacle, spreading him more and more with each dive. At the same time, fellow tentacles terrorized the rest of his vulnerable body, massaging his chest and milking his beading cock-- but not relieving him.

Warm tears streamed constantly from of his eyes without Vegeta knowing or caring. The long piece of Buu spearing into him began twisting and wriggling in ways that wrenched guttural moans from the helpless Saiyan's throat. He was beyond thought.

Buu watched and took in his fill for some minutes before deciding that he was not getting enough from the prince. The thick tendril of Buu steadily and leisurely withdrew itself from Vegeta's body only after dipping in one last time, deeply and thoroughly, as if acting on its own accord. The spread Saiyan was left twitching and throbbing.

Vegeta seemed unable to hold in his cries now as if his inner nerves had worked up an appetite from the brief intrusion and were desperately yearning for the next stimulus.

The Saiyan was gently lowered to the ground and Buu watched him panting and toiling. The Saiyan's gloved hands glided weakly over his own body as if in search of something. After a while, Vegeta's nerves slowly lost their razor sharp edge and he was able to peer beneath his heavy eye lids to see his tormentor.

The figure standing above him was changing into something more frightening than any version of Buu. After a moment of only a rippling, amorphous blob, the orange and blue clad body of Goku emerged into recognition. To Vegeta's horror, it knelt down between the worn Saiyan's splayed legs and immediately took to removing the tatters of clothing from them.

Vegeta's weary eyes hectically scanned the form kneeling above him. He first noticed that there were no more tentacles. They had all gone. There was now only a body there, and a hauntingly Saiyan one.

Vegeta mentally pleaded for the being to look up, to look into his eyes. If Vegeta could see those venomous eyes, then he would know that it was Buu and that this was all just a part of his terrible game. The Kakarot-creature did not look up but had quietly moved up Vegeta's body to begin tearing away the scraps that concealed Vegeta's softening member.

 _Look up, Look up!_ Vegeta's mind cried. He couldn't see the man's eyes and he felt sick.

Suddenly, a hand closed around the base of his shaft and his whole body cried out. Next, the unruly, dark head lowered itself and the weakened Saiyan felt a gentle but assertive mouth taking him in.

" _No, no_ ," Vegeta moaned, voice worn to a hoarse whisper, and his arms came up to cover his face.

The man sucked him more demandingly and Vegeta's hands flew down to push him away. In one quick motion, both of Vegeta's wrists were confined in the large hand of the stranger, whose head continued to rise and fall between the princes thighs.

Vegeta was very close to losing complete control. All he had was his climax, his load, his final claim to his body and resolve. Once he lost that, he would be done; he would have nothing left, for the beast had taken everything else.

But the stranger seemed to take pity on him and let the stiff shaft slip wetly from his mouth unfinished. Vegeta was both grateful and infuriated at once. His nerves were so on edge, he could almost hear them screaming.

He looked down at the man, who finally raised his head, but to no avail. It was too dark in the grove and Vegeta could not make out the shape of the man's eyes, let alone their color. Vegeta sighed as his captured wrists were suddenly lifted up over his head. The silent man with Kakarot's clothes and shape settled his hips between the slighter man's bare thighs.

"Don't," Vegeta said softly, as if the man on top of him truly _was_ Kakarot and so would have compassion.

The man only lowered his head to nuzzle Vegeta's neck and used his free hand to raise one of the limp thighs.

" _Please,_ " Vegeta tried again, but the shrouded man seemed to be fully focused on his task alone.

Soon, the Kakarot-creature was positioned firmly against Vegeta's already prepared opening and the prince was tense and panting in anticipation. The man didn't move. Vegeta grew more uneasy with every passing second.

"Call me Kakarot," the man finally said, in that ageless voice Vegeta knew so well.

His heart swelled when he heard the cool and gentle voice of his fellow Saiyan. It was a warm, grounding presence at a time when Vegeta felt completely alone and out of control. However, when his mind caught up, he registered the words that were said, and he was slammed back into the hollow reality of what was happening.

The battered, beaten Saiyan, who was proving to be more resilient than either of them expected, said no.

What followed was the thick head of a shaft slowly breaching Vegeta's body. The prince groaned loudly. The Kakarot beast ceased his intrusion once the bulbous head of his cock was sheathed and he waited. He didn't ask again but Vegeta knew what he was waiting for. He didn't see what he had to gain from saying the name-- surely the man would do whatever he was going to do anyway... but then again, he didn't see what he had to lose either.

That brief moment earlier when he'd thought he'd seen the real Kakarot in the face of the monster made him wonder with a scrap of hope if the barriers were unstable. Maybe he could call Kakarot out of this. His body was already here in completion, as far as Vegeta could see-- and _feel_ \-- maybe his mind wasn't far behind. There was little logic in this belief but it seemed to be all the logic the haunted Saiyan needed.

In a cracked voice that seemed to signify the broken pride of the prince, Vegeta spoke the name.

What followed was a sound laced in dark satisfaction from the man on top of him. Then, very suddenly, the broken Saiyan was penetrated to the hilt.

A long gasp escaped his lips. His violator began a smooth rhythm of slowly pulling out of him and then very forcefully shoving back in. This tantalizing treatment continued for some amount of time that was probably shorter than Vegeta thought it was. It didn't pain him in the least anymore but somehow he found it to be the worst kind of torture. The fire in his low abdomen was building at a steady rate and he could only gasp and arch into it. Distantly, he felt breath against his ear.

"Beg me to fuck you," the monster said in the all too familiar voice, but darkened with lust. Vegeta had never heard that voice take on such a tone. It was terrible. "Say, 'fuck me, Kakarot.'"

Vegeta tried to jerk his head away from the voice. The pace of the thrusts were neither quickening nor slowing and the prince's body was heavily on edge with an animal yearning.

"Fuck..." he began without even realizing. It seemed his body and voice were acting separately from his reluctant mind and doing whatever it took now to end this torment, "Fuck..."

"Yes?" the monster encouraged, finally slowing his pace to the gentlest of thrusts.

"Fuck," Vegeta began again, panting roughly, "Fuck me."

He hadn't said the name but the plea alone must have been enough for Buu. The eager mutant suddenly sat up on his haunches, releasing the wrists of the grounded Saiyan (Vegeta hardly needed restraining anymore). His thrusts maintained a more enthusiastic rhythm now as he bore down into the defeated prince. He began slowly shedding his shirt to reveal a chest and abdomen that were entirely Kakarot's.

Vegeta's mind was waging such a war that he could hardly fight. _This isn't Kakarot,_ his mind screamed repeatedly, _Kakarot would never..._

As Vegeta battled himself, the head of his tormentor fell back in a full-body arch. The sun outside of the thorny grove had moved and now shone specks of light down on a familiar face, lax with pleasure. Slowly, the eyes opened and fell upon Vegeta's own. The prince could see them perfectly now... but where were the venomous irises? Now the darkest pools of onyx stared back at him. 

"Kakarot?" Vegeta's voice was faint.

Kakarot grinned ferally and his thrusts deepened. Vegeta watched in pure horror.

"No," he cried, " _no, no!_ "

Goku leaned over Vegeta as he bore into him, grinning all the while. He watched the eyes of his conquest close tightly and brim with rivers of tears. He found that the prince's voice had not been completely worn out and he relished in the jagged screams. Somewhere in the wild and brutal claiming, a not-so-gentle hand wrapped itself around Vegeta's center of torment and began working it hard.

Vegeta could not gauge the amount of time it took, nor anything else, but with a sharp arch and a last sob, he climaxed into the hand of the only other Saiyan living and received the other's seed to the brim.

Vegeta lye there panting, unaware of much of anything. Before the other body pulled out of him, it gently leaned over him and said, slightly breathless, "Now I've beaten you in every way." Quietly and promptly, the man gathered himself and walked away, carelessly leaving the other in a tattered and used mess in the thorns.

Vegeta wouldn't see it but as the man distanced himself, he slowly changed: Soft flesh became waxy and sleek; wild hair shrank into a neat antenna; the orange and blue gi molded into the mutant uniform; and the onyx eyes melted back into violent red.

When Buu cleared the great thorny grove, he gave a great long stretch and admired the bright sky. He gauged that he had sufficiently satisfied his curiosity and smiled.

Somewhere in the far reaches of his mind there was a roar of opposition that had been persistently pricking at him for some time now, but it died away into silence. Buu disregarded it again. He didn't like to indulge the odd surges of emotion that came from that part of his mind for fear of losing himself to it. However, this particular outcry was so strong and so permeating that, reluctantly and for the first time, he did respond.

"At least I didn't kill him," he gently sent to the far reaches of his mind. And that was all. Buu moved on.

 

\-------------

I started this story a few years ago on different sites. I always enjoyed it and look forward to continuing.

I realized somewhere into the later chapters that I overlooked a pretty big chunk of the DBZ story line, so I want to confess to it before someone points it out. Vegeta is actually dead during this part of the Buu Saga. He was given one day to return to Earth and help Goku defeat Buu. For the purpose of this series, that is not the case. Sorry for the misstep! Hope you enjoy! Please leave a review, they really encourage me.


	2. The Complex

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Something is pulling at Buu's mind and he can't help wondering if Goku's absorption has something to do with it. What will Buu do to keep control and how will Vegeta salvage the new world after the loss of its greatest hero?

Buu didn't look back on what had happened-- or rather what _hadn't_ happen-- as a moment of weakness.

What _hadn't_ happened was the death of the last living Saiyan and defender of Earth. At first he'd tried to justify it as a conscious decision he'd made to keep the little runt around as sport for later. Soon, tired of arguing with himself, he decided it best to just push it out of his mind. He'd even managed to convince himself that he _had_  killed the Saiyan. As a result, he assumed the appropriate air of someone without a care left in the world and who was therefore entitled to some much deserved recreational time.

He was fairly convincing in the role of the retired too and carried on smoothly for some time. The only indication that the quick and timely killing of Vegeta had _not_ actually occurred was the occasional and inexplicable frown that would pass over Buu's face in idle moments.

Buu was sitting in an empty cafe (empty, because he'd eaten all the customers and employees), stirring cream into a mug of mint chocolate milk with a candy cane and feeling rather satisfied with the current state of things, when he was overcome with a profound sense of loss. It was the feeling you get when you realize you've forgotten something but can't, for the life of you, pinpoint it. He frowned again.

All day Buu had been having a difficult time keeping up his mood. He didn't know why. Hadn't everything he'd done up to that point been something he'd wanted to do? Overall he'd made himself a full and satisfying lifestyle, hadn't he? Buu truly had nothing to feel at a loss about and he certainly wouldn't waste any more time trying to find something.

He set down his hot chocolate as though it were the cause of the sudden plummet in his mood, and left in search of something else with which to distract himself.

 

 

Some miles out of the city where Buu was currently brooding, the true culprit of his bad mood was slowly but steadily making his way through the woods.

The small and tattered Saiyan was limping Northeast. There was nothing of particular importance to him in that direction, it was just the direction in which he'd happened to start moving. Really, it didn't matter what direction he went. His first priority was to get away from the grove.

With every step, Vegeta felt like he was battling gravity for balance. He swayed and grappled at his surroundings for stability. He wasn't exactly awake, but he wasn't tired. When he arrived at wherever he was going, he would not remember this walk, nor would he remember leaving the great, thorny grove. What he would remember, unfortunately and in gruesome detail, was what took place inside.

However, he wasn't thinking about that now. Now his waning focus was set on gaining as much distance as possible from the scene behind him. Although he stumbled and sometimes fell into nearby trees and bushes, he continued to move with a diligence. It was as though stopping for even an instant would allow whatever he'd left behind him time to catch up. His literal flee from the past seemed to be working; His thoughts did not trail backward into recent memory. All he knew was the path ahead, and when he got to the end of it, he would deal with it then.

 

 

After the very disappointing cafe, Buu tried to occupy himself with a number of other promising activities: First, he crashed a wealthy dinner party, tormented the hundreds of guests and then turned them into various festive cakes. Then, oddly, he was struck with a sharp loss of appetite and left the hundreds of sweets to splatter and waste all over the ground. After that, he set fire to a soccer field-- during a game. The fire made him feel nostalgic however, and he didn't stay to watch the embers. Later, he tried to stage a domino fall with the larger of the city buildings, but it wasn't successful and only served to deepen his mood. Finally he visited the humane society to pet the cats. When this too failed to lift him from his emotional chasm, Buu resolved that he'd had enough.

In a huff of irritation, the mutant fled the city, coming to a violent halt some miles above. Hovering there, he scanned the area frantically, searching for something-- he didn't know what. He was struggling to define what it was he was feeling at that moment because it was something so foreign and unnatural to him, he couldn't find the word for it. Then, all of a sudden, it hit him.

He scoffed in dismay.

Buu realized he was undergoing symptoms of depression. Activities he used to love no longer held the same thrill. He was easily disinterested and felt little motivation to do anything at all, and nothing he did seemed to help it. Never had Buu felt such utter hopelessness. The idea that someone with his power and stature could be capable of feeling anything like depression was ridiculous. He couldn't believe it and yet he knew it to be true.

Somewhere in the far reaches of his mind, a biting sense of satisfaction was humming to itself. The satisfaction was not his own, but from a separate entity. The source of the emotion was so deep in his mind that Buu had to concentrate to trace it.  Finally, as he pinpointed the source, he understood.

Buu's moods, like his power, were under the influence of another, and the mutant had more than an idea of whom.

In the same way that Goku's power much exceeded and overshadowed those of the other fighters whom Buu absorbed, the Saiyan's personality and emotions seemed to be the dominating presence in Buu's mind. In other words, Buu was unable to have any fun while his latest and most powerful implant was moping.

This wasn't supposed to happen. The syncing of minds was supposed to be seamless. Detection of individual entities was … well, it was insubordination, Buu concluded. 

He deliberated among himself this way for some time, as though he could reason with the absorbed Saiyan into cheering up. Nothing seemed to have an effect on his still sullen emotional state however, and Buu became more frustrated.

In a flurry, the mutant heaved a ball of tension into the horizon. As a plot of forest dissipated into a crater in the distance, Buu found he just felt more depressed. The stubborn corner of his mind hummed once more at his expense.

Buu seethed. Had he now become the puppet in his own show? Impossible! The very thought was disgusting. As Buu became angrier at the idea of losing control of his latest acquisition, he felt himself losing his temper as well. The mutant's lean muscles tightened and swelled, and his skin began to heat up making his already pink complexion burn an angry red. As the steam burst from his many pores, he began to hear distant laughter.

He froze. There was no one around.  

Buu knew instantly that the laughter was only in his mind. The mocking sound grew louder until it seemed to vibrate endlessly through his head and Buu found he couldn't block out the echoes. In a blind rage, he launched ball after ball of furious energy to the city below until the ground was ablaze.

 

 

Vegeta awoke in a dimmed room he didn't recognize. In his dizzy desperation to leave the woods behind, he'd taken himself to a strange house.

The Saiyan began to sit up but stopped when every cell in his body cried out for mercy, reminding him of the stern beating he'd taken not long ago. He was able to push passed the stabbing muscular outcry, but when he was hit with a different sort of ache, one that stung him from within, he hissed and paused.

What had happened?

What had happened?

A wave of revulsion overtook him and he collapsed again and shut his eyes tightly.

 

 

Buu was on edge. He looked around as though he expected a foe to burst out of nowhere to catch him off guard. But the battle was only in his mind.

As the great city evaporated into dust and ash, Buu hovered some miles above, panting and gleaming in sweat. It was clear that his frustration had gotten the better of him. Oh, if all of his old enemies could be there now-- what a sight to behold! The great and unstoppable Buu throwing a temper tantrum. If Babidi where there, oh, a stern scolding would be in order!

After a few minutes, Buu cooled down and his breathing eased until he was almost composed. As he waited there above the crater once inhabited by the populated city, Buu noticed with some wonder that his mind had gone quiet. The laughter had stopped. He thought first that his outburst had shut it up but then another wave of foreign emotion overtook him. In place of mocking satisfaction was a devastating sorrow. In an instant, Buu _felt_ more than knew that the sorrow was for the lives he had just taken. Normally, the mutant didn't blink an eye at the destruction of life and often even took great joy in finding new and creative ways to kill, so he knew at once that the contradictory emotions were separate from his own. It was his latest and strongest implant coming out again but this time it wasn't laughing.

“Oh, you don't like that?” 

 

 

Perhaps it was the spirits of long-deceased Saiyans reaching out to him from the grave in the act of some divine intervention, or perhaps it was the fact that he hadn't eaten in days, but Vegeta felt a pull in his gut that he couldn't ignore and soon found he was incapable of laying there any longer.

With great will power and a glimmer of something that only Saiyans have a name for, the beaten warrior pushed his pain to the back of his mind. Then, with a strength unheard of from any human after having undergone such tribulations, Vegeta picked himself up off the mat.

His head was heavy and Vegeta lifted his hands to ease some inner ache.

He wasn't a prince anymore. He was the ruler of no one. He didn't have to hear it. However, while he was still in power of his own mind and body, he would carry himself in a way that would at least bring pride to the memory of his tarnished people. He would not shrivel away nor would he allow himself any self-pity. Forward, he asserted, was the only direction from there, at least while there was still something left to be saved. And as though sending home the point, Vegeta inhaled deeply, straightened his back, and took the first step forward. 

 

 

As Buu hovered there above the crater, an idea hit him. Reaching far back into the caverns of his mind, Buu weaved through a jungle of unorganized memories that had not always been his own. After a few moments of sorting through them, he found the batch he was looking for. Images flashed in his mind at lightning speed, and Buu felt the emotion behind every one and understood them down to their tiniest details as if he had lived them himself. He saw many different creatures and planets and flashes of battles. Before long he deduced that some of the most vibrant memories involved a quaint, dark-haired woman and a small cottage on the outskirts of a city. The lightning slide show suddenly stopped on the smiling woman in the house. His thoughts hovered there with a dark implication. The swell of satisfaction that had taken such pleasure at Buu's distress earlier was all but dissipated now, and in it's place arose a swelling feeling of dread.

Buu laughed to himself. He had found the leverage he needed.

 

 

 

Vegeta's stiff and rigid form looked around a dark and dusty room. In his zombie-like half-consciousness, he had taken himself to a small home on the outskirts of the city. He dressed quickly in some clothes he'd found in the closet. He didn't know if whoever lived there would be coming back but he wasn't worried. The importance of his mission far outweighed the immorality of a stolen pair of over-sized slacks and top.

Buu hadn't gotten everyone. There were still a few left and the last Saiyan and defender of Earth was tasked with seeing to it that the last of them were taken somewhere safe. He left immediately, ready to set about his plans, fear pushed to the back of his mind. First on the list of priorities was Kakarot's home, then to Capsule Corporation. Bulma's hand in this fight would now become imperative. Now that strength no longer factored into the equation, a brilliant mind was their last hope. Bulma was now Earth's most powerful protector.

Vegeta knew what he had to do.

 

 

 

Buu knew what he had to do.

As long as the latest addition to his mind clung to his humanity, he would not be able to fully merge with Buu. The eclectic mutant would have to relieve Goku of the petty attachments that were keeping him anchored to his former life. Emancipation was necessary before the reluctant Saiyan could come fully and without obstacle into his new accommodations in the all-powerful embrace of Buu.

Like an equation that just clicked, Buu found the solution to his problem. He swelled with a sense of purpose. With his new memories guiding him, he knew where to go.

It was time to complete the initiation of his newest and most vital addition.


	3. The New Mission

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The team finds refuge on Dende's Lookout, but for how long will they be safe? As they hash out a new plan to defeat the all-powerful Buu, what part will Vegeta play?

Vegeta flew at a pace that didn't nearly lend to the severity of the situation, but he was still recuperating from the chunk of energy he'd lost in his battle against Buu and was having a difficult enough time just managing a hover. On the up side, the sliver of energy required to maintain such a sluggish speed made him virtually impossible to detect, so he was satisfied at least to play it safe.

He flew low, not breaking the tree tops. This made it difficult to keep a direct course but it made him feel secure somehow.

The soft sound of the tree branches whisking past was a comforting third party to him and his thoughts. Unfortunately, it didn't smother the images that flashed behind his eyes at idle moments, and he felt the creeping presence of the dark thing constantly. In the back of his mind, freshly buried, it was slowly and deliberately clawing it's way to the surface to poke its ugly head around at him.

This might have made a lesser man feel helpless to the trauma but Vegeta was well-practiced in the ways of ignoring glaring truths. The weathered Saiyan would do what he'd done under the employment of Frieza. After countless degrading tortures, interrogations and public humiliations, he would store away the aftermath. By now he'd become quite proficient at pushing things to the back of his mind and burying them there. Only years later, after Frieza's demise and after having spent time in the company of the Earthlings, did Vegeta begin to wonder if “burying away” was really what he was doing. When he put away his torment, was it really gone? Or was he taking it into himself and with time, coming more and more into the person it was making him,  the person he was today. In reality, was he like Buu, dragging lives away into the caverns of his mind, hiding them there and neglecting them, all the while growing into a darker and more abominable monster? Would Vegeta now absorb this new and terrible offense into himself? And what would it make him next?

The Saiyan felt a disgusted shiver run up his spine at the idea of permanently wearing the shame of what had happened to him in the grove. Could everyone see it on him, like a mark? Or was it more of an accumulation of things, like baggage in a closet, piling up until inevitably crashing down on top of him?

Vegeta was thankfully pulled out of his plummeting thoughts when he saw in the near distance a great red dome poking out from the trees. He was coming up on the former home of Kakarot and where his wife, Chichi, was hopefully residing now. He would have to be quick, he knew. Vegeta wasn't sure if Buu would find reason to come here but he dared not trust to assume anything about the mercurial creature.

He would grab Chichi and leave. There would be time for explanations when they'd reached a secure place.

 

 

The cottage was tucked away in the trees as though it were trying to blend in, and Buu beamed down at it like a child who'd won a game of Hide and Seek.

The life inside the house was so insignificant that Buu couldn't sense it. How someone as powerful as Goku could fall to such a low as to attach himself to such inferior beings was beyond him. Fortunately, it didn't matter. Buu, now a kind of savior, would relieve Goku of what had been holding him back from what would be his true potential.

Buu's breath caught in his chest when he saw a flash of a midnight purple form peaking out from the screen door. Then the full body of the dark haired woman from his memories emerged from the house, stepping lightly down from the doorway and embarking the grassy yard. Buu watched, captivated, as Chichi gently knelt and poured a pan of steaming liquid over the ground, careful to keep it away from her feet and dress. Something in Buu's chest felt warm. Buu found it and smothered it, replacing it at once with the purpose of his mission.

The mutant extended a steady hand and between his fingers, could still see the distant form of the purple-clad woman making her way back into the house, now emptied pan in hand.

A different sort of heat from the one he'd felt in his chest began boiling in his open palm and he sent it down to the cottage the woman called ChiChi had just vanished into.

For reasons Buu didn't care to explore, he chose not witness the incineration of Goku's wife first hand. Instead he remained above and watched as, within seconds, a new crater replaced the modest home.

Something clenched inside of him instantly and he bit back a groan. Buu felt a pain that was not physical yet it made him yearn to grab for his chest. He resisted.

An odd sense of loss, mixed with the pleasure he often derived from causing destruction blended and erupted within him to create a new and exhilerating rush he hadn't anticipated. It was a sensation he didn't recognize, like hopelessness or sympathy. Killing randomly and at will, while exciting by nature, did get monotonous after a while. This added attachment to the victim had thrown in a certain twist, a hesitation. Fighting that hesitation caused a blazing turmoil in himself. He hadn't felt such a radiating kick in... he didn't know how long. The only thing like it that he could recall was when he walked away from the Saiyan, those days ago.

Buu pictured the splayed body, almost the size of a child, lying there twitching and soiled in the brushes, eyes rolled in his head. It was a phenomenal high he'd felt then and he hadn't really thought back on it until just now when he'd gotten the similar feeling. There was a battle raging in his head and he appeared to be winning it now as he had then. If he plucked off every one of Goku's loved one's like this, would he feel this each time, like something was tearing yet flourishing inside of him?

There was a sort of psychotic thrill in it, like he was slowly killing a part of himself but with it, growing more powerful, like slowly breaking from the anchor. As destructive as Buu was, the idea of destroying himself had never occurred to him. All the while he felt a power surging beneath his skin. The sorrow and anger and rage blended into a spiked arousal. He was bursting with an undefinable need. He wanted to go out and do more damage in the hunt for more of this wonderful feeling.

Perhaps he had found a way to tap into this new power with which Goku had gifted him.

The Earth Saiyan had something that Buu did not and it was the ability to emotionally attach himself to others, or the ability to “love”. With this power of attachment came the irrepressible sorrow when those beloved things were damaged or lost. Buu had never experienced such a dilemma.

However it was that Goku had been absorbed without his emotions getting muted like all the others was beyond Buu, but he attributed it to the fact that he'd never absorbed such a formidable energy as Goku's.  With such an energy came unforeseeable side effects. All the same, Buu was beginning to see how he could use these overriding emotions to his advantage, even find some enjoyment in them.

The rush was slowly ebbing away and Buu found he wasn't ready to lose it yet.

He wanted more.

 

 

From a thick hedge some distance from where the Son house once stood, Vegeta and a very frazzled Chichi lay, heads down in the brambles. Chunks of earth and debris flew over them. The flash had ended and now there was just emptied space, which Vegeta had just managed to clear.

The Saiyan had arrived in the nick of time. 

Chichi coughed up some dirt and Vegeta peaked up through the hedges to see where Buu had gone. The pink freak was hovering idly some hundred feet above.

Although Vegeta was never one to hide, even he could admit that he was in no condition to face the mutant.

Chichi whined something next to him and Vegeta quickly hushed her, his eyes never leaving the gleaming pink blotch in the sky. Buu seemed to be formulating something drastic. He seemed enthused. In a flash, he darted off. Vegeta nearly jumped at the swiftness of it, almost expecting the fiend to appear next to him in the hedge.

Vegeta looked around and then back at Chichi, who was staring around in alarm. Not yet ready to talk to her, he quickly stood up, grabbed her wrist when she offered it and pulled her up as well. When she looked like she was about to speak, Vegeta said, gently now, “I'll explain later. Not here.”

That seemed to suffice. Chichi nodded and allowed him to scoop her into his arms.

They took flight.

 

 

Some time had passed and Vegeta hadn't said a word the whole way. However, the grimace on his face spoke volumes of the argument that was screaming in his mind.

Vegeta couldn't believe that Buu would go to Kakarot's home. Certainly Vegeta was preparing for the possibility, but he hadn't really expected it --and so soon! What on Earth had driven the bastard to it? What could Buu possibly get from killing the wife of Kakarot?

“Vegeta?” came Chichi's voice softly, awakening Vegeta from his thoughts.

The annoyed Saiyan hoped to Kami she wouldn't ask why they were flying so slow. But she didn't and Vegeta stared, slightly confused as her eyes began to glaze and her lip quivered.

“They told me Goku was absorbed. They told me it wasn't safe to stay but I had to wait for you. I knew that you would come here. I knew you would.”

Chichi was emotional to the point of tears and Vegeta was at a loss for a response. Instinctively, he stiffened and nearly dropped her when she suddenly moved to embrace him around the neck. But he let her do it, knowing it must be comforting to her.

The rest of the trip up to Dende's Lookout passed in silence. They landed lightly and, as always, the Guardian of Earth and Mr. Popo were waiting. Vegeta transferred Chichi over to them and left in a hurry to the next stop on the list, Capsule Corporation.

 

 

Vegeta was regaining his energy and flew now at a pace slightly more urgent. He didn't know if Buu would pay Bulma a similar visit but he wouldn't risk it. He hoped he wasn't too late.

When Vegeta arrived, Bulma spoke quickly. Like Chichi, she'd been informed of what had happened to Goku, but unlike Chichi, was not expecting a rescue.

“Listen, I can't just leave everything here. What about my work! I've hardly packed!”

Vegeta responded as he usually did when he wanted something done and Bulma preferred debating it first— he did what he wanted. Through with arguing with the woman, Vegeta tossed her over his shoulder in a practiced fashion and flew out the door.

 

 

The day was coming to a close and every living Earthling Vegeta and Goku had called friend or family, or in Vegeta's case— tolerable company, was now gathered up at Dende's little place in the sky.

There was jumble of noise, mostly dominated by Bulma and the occasional quip from Chichi. Vegeta stood off in the corner not wanting to draw much attention to himself. He wasn't quite at home in his new role as the hero.

Somewhere between all the bustle and noise, the young Namekian, Dende, made his way over to Vegeta's corner.

Vegeta didn't greet him and he didn't need to ask what was on the Namekian's mind. He knew no event on Earth was hidden from the broad gaze of the Guardian.

They were silent for a solid few minutes before Dende finally spoke up.

“They'll be safe here, for now,” he said.

Vegeta said nothing. He understood. The words, _for now_ , hovered ominously in his mind.

“There is a humanity in Buu that still holds some things sacred. For whatever reason, he's been ignoring this place. I don't know for how long he'll overlook us but I think it's safe to assume that we don't have long.”

Vegeta's agreement took the form of a stern silence.

The Prince had never quite taken to the new Guardian of Earth. Perhaps it was his lofty position at such a young age and all the responsibility he assumed. But Vegeta understood that Dende had never asked for it. Still, he'd accepted it, like he did with most things, with grace and optimism. And maybe it was that unyielding optimism that had always rubbed Vegeta the wrong way. He realized then that Dende reminded him of Kakarot. Vegeta tensed slightly.

He had to admit, though, the young Guardian did have a soothing way about him. Vegeta found that the weight he'd been carrying with him all day was easing slightly. Despite himself, Vegeta was grateful that the little sop didn't come over to chide him for his heart that, as it turned out, was not made of stone. He didn't need the condescension. What would have been worse still, was if he'd come to pity him for what Vegeta was sure he knew had happened. But Dende didn't appear to want to do either.

They watched the crowd for a few moments.

“Vegeta,” Dende gently broke the silence, turning to the stony Saiyan.

Vegeta turned to see the Namekian looking him up and down with a curious sort of expression.

“Did you want to borrow some clothes?”

Vegeta looked down at himself. He was still wearing the Earth clothes that he'd found in the vacant house he'd woken up in that morning. It was khaki slacks, too large around the hips so they sagged, and a beige, short-sleeve shirt which was buttoned sloppily in a haste.

“It's fine,” Vegeta replied dismissively, masking his slight embarrassment. “I just need a belt.”

Dende nodded in his accepting way that seemed to hold no judgment. Vegeta examined the innocent face and couldn't honestly imagine Dende judging _anyone_ hastily. The Prince considered for a passing moment that perhaps the Guardian did not think less of him for what had happened in the grove.

 

 

The rabbling crowd was simmering down. They had come to a conclusion.

They didn't have to deliberate for long, in fact the decision was unanimous. In such dire times as these, when all hope seemed lost and the heroes they once trusted had fallen, where else had they ever found hope but in the gleam and promise of the seven ancient Dragon Balls?

Of course the Dragon Balls.

Vegeta's folded arms tightened over his chest as he listened to the plan which did not involve the present, remaining Saiyan saving the day in a final, harrowing battle. Vegeta didn't blame them for leaving him out of the equation. He was no hero, he knew. They all knew. He'd had his chance at Buu and lost not only the fight but much more. He could swear he'd even lost himself at some point in that dark, thorny place, as much as he hated to think back on it.

At some point, Bulma must have noticed his bowed head and averted stare.

“But don't think you're off the hook, Vegeta,” she called over with a finger and a smirk. “You play an important part in this. We'll need your speed to fetch those Dragon Balls in a hurry.”

Feeling patronized, Vegeta turned away, murmuring.

They discussed the plan a little more and went into some in-depth planning. Bulma reaffirmed that Vegeta was wrong in snatching her so quickly, as she had been forced to leave some key tools behind. For one, the Dragon Radar.

Vegeta was tasked to swing back to Capsule Corp. and snag some survival equipment. From there, they would begin the hunt for the Dragon Balls.


	4. The Dilemma

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fearing that Vegeta feels left out, Bulma assigns him errands for the new plan to retrieve the Dragon Balls. As he grudgingly makes his last supply run to Capsule Corporation, he comes face to face with the last being on Earth he wanted to see. And why does the mutant look so happy to see him?

 

It was supposed to be a quick errand.

 _Just swing by Caspule Corp, Vegeta, grab us a couple things,_ Bulma had said. _After that the real work begins!_

Vegeta hadn't made a secret of his irritation that they had lumped such a trivial task onto him. Him! The last Saiyan-- of royal blood mind you. The one who would be their only hope of survival should the whole _Dragon Ball plan_ fall through. They gave him an errand.

The whole way down to the heart of the metropolis, Vegeta was cursing them through gritted teeth.

Nearly half the day had gone and he'd made multiple trips, hauling with only himself a number of survival supplies and other useful things. He'd saved the radar for last and was heading back down to Capsule Corp. for the final run and making pretty good time, he thought. Perhaps in the flow of the routine, the gravity of the situation had slightly worn off on him.

In flight, as the wind whipped through his raven hair, his mind drifted back to a few days earlier. It had only been a few days and yet if felt so long ago, like he'd been a different person then. There was one question in his mind that plagued him, almost more than the memories of the event itself. He couldn't help wondering why Buu left him alive. Why put him through so much torment only to leave him there. The answer seemed suddenly too obvious to him; it was humiliation. Buu's intention was to defeat his opponent through shame and degradation. It was comprehensible enough. It was almost identical to how Frieza would beat him publicly to put the rebellious Saiyan in his place. But Buu wasn't Frieza. Buu didn't need him alive. So again, Vegeta wondered why he was still alive. Why not kill him, or absorb him like all the others?

The questions swirled around in the troubled Saiyan's mind and occupied him while he carried out his task.

On his way out the door of Capsule Corporation for what would be the final time, he paused, looking down at himself as though remembering something. The clothes he'd found that morning and thrown on, while convenient, didn't fit him. He lifted his arms and noted the waistband of the slacks slipping another quarter inch down his hips.

While he was there, it might be a good idea to grab some of his own things.

He turned and went back inside.

He was sifting rather leisurely through his wardrobe when a jolt hit him. He felt more than sensed a great presence closing in on him. It rocked him to the core. Instantly he knew it was time to get out.

 

 

The mutant was coming up on the center of the city where the great dome of Capsule Corp. seemed to swell out of the ground like a giant bubble, calling to him to pop it.

 

 

Before Vegeta could even find a belt (which was all he now had time for), a sudden and severe quake wracked the house. Vegeta braced himself against the wall. The ground was shaking as though a construction team was setting off rounds of dynamite next door. Vegeta didn't have to look out the window to know that there was no construction team.

He quickly grabbed the Dragon Radar and made for the door. As he dashed through the giant maze of a house, it began crumbling around him. He dodged bits of the structure as chunks of it came crashing down. Soon, he found that there was no front door to run to and when he looked up, instead of high ceilings, he could see the sky through clouds of thick dust.

Vegeta paused, coughing up a bit of rubble and he turned to survey the sudden transformation of his surroundings. Covering his mouth with his forearm, he squinted through the dust. As his view cleared, he could see that the whole block had been leveled. Only jagged sections of wall jutted feebly out from the rubble that, only seconds ago, had been Capsule Corp.

The scant remains served as a meager cover for Vegeta and for that he was grateful, because it was clear now that Buu had arrived.

 

 

Buu beamed down at the former home of the Briefs. His latest attempt at subduing the itch in himself had brought him to Capsule Corps. As he surveyed the remains, he felt a twisted sense of glee and hovered there to take in the innovation. The dust was clearing and he was slowly getting a better view of his work.

This was where Goku's human friend, Bulma, had lived with her family. The idea that he might see mangled bits of there bodies peaking out from the wreckage further aroused the wicked thrill in him.

Buu had chosen not to level the plot completely, because he liked the idea of the inhabitants being slowly crushed beneath the structure.

 

 

Vegeta cursed himself for not being quicker to find a belt. As he crouched through the remains of his home, careful to remain hidden, he grasped a wad of the rim of his over-sized slacks.

How would he get himself out of this situation? His one saving grace was that Buu didn't appear to have sensed him yet. The Saiyan had done well to suppress his energy at the first scent of Buu's power.

“Vegeta,” Bulma's voice suddenly crackled from his pocket.

Vegeta scrambled for the device almost tearing at his pants.

“Vegeta? What's taking so long? Were you able to find it?”

Finally he had hold of the damned thing, gripping it with both hands like a scurrying rodent. He silenced it, but it was already too late.

the Saiyan's eyes drifted upward and all his breath left him.

Buu was staring dead at him, a large and fanged smile spreading on his lips.

  

 

The day seemed to just get brighter and brighter for Buu. This was surely the highlight. He was elated and he was sure it showed. Every fiber in him leaped as he glided down to the now exposed Saiyan.

“Well if it isn't Vegeta,” Buu slowed and landed gracefully. His eyes were bright as he focused on the Saiyan who was certainly a pleasant surprise.

 

 

Vegeta stood up, seeing no sense in crouching anymore now that he'd been discovered. In his head he was cursing Bulma. She had never been one for patience. Yet neither had he. The communication device now rested quietly in his pocket opposite the Dragon Radar.

Vegeta stared Buu down.

“Alive and well, I see.” Buu's eyes flickered over the Saiyan body that appeared apt enough to stand on its own but little else. The faint energy signal indicated that Vegeta's power, while on the mend, was at only a fraction of its normal state. 

Vegeta said nothing but kept his attention locked on every move Buu made. The pause lengthened.

If Buu found the prince's unresponsiveness rude, he didn't show it.

“Do you like what I've done with the place?” he offered brightly, diverting his unreadable stare from the rigid Saiyan to indicate the despoiled dwelling around them.

Again, Vegeta didn't respond.

Buu took a step forward.

With a snarl, Vegeta fell into a defensive stance.

Buu froze.

“You don't need to feel threatened, Saiyan,” the mutant said carefully. “I can see you haven't had sufficient enough time to recuperate. I'm not going to attack you, I promise. ”

Despite Buu's assurance, Vegeta's heart was making its doubts known as it pounded away in this chest. He was breathing hard from sheer adrenaline, though he tried his best to appear composed. It was proving very difficult because the mere sight of Buu so near set sirens off in his mind. He felt like a rabbit in the middle of a roaring highway. All productive thinking was smothered by an urgent fear.

Buu took another step forward and that was all Vegeta needed. With a blast, his energy flared around him protectively. The pride in him was all that kept him from taking to the sky. At that moment, he felt an utter smallness which he'd never experienced in the face of another living being-- not Frieza, nor anyone. Yet he stayed. You could never completely kill the fight in a Saiyan.

Vegeta's eyes threatened with the biggest bluff of his life.

The display was enough to give Buu pause but something in the fiery Saiyan's eyes betrayed his great fear. The sight was captivating to Buu.

From what Buu remembered (or rather, gathered from his new memories) Vegeta had never worn those clothes before. Buu's eyes glided over the slight Saiyan appraisingly.

Vegeta was standing slightly squatted, arms raised, in preparation to either fight or flee-- flee, Buu guessed. His shirt had clearly been buttoned in a haste and his ill-fitting slacks hung loosely around his hips. The mutant guessed that if the Saiyan was not squatting slightly, there would be little to hold them up. The Earth clothing flapped and danced loosely as Vegeta's energy rose around him.

“Vegeta, what's wrong?” a familiar interest flared in the Mutant and dripped from his voice. He watched the prince with large, unblinking eyes.

Vegeta wanted to shrink away from the prodding look but steeled himself.

Buu's fixation with Vegeta was an anomaly to the prince yet it was apparent in every flicker of the crimson eyes, every cork on his smooth brow. What bothered Vegeta most about it was the glowing sincerity in the mutant's smile when he'd seen him. His dark eyes had taken on an unnaturally joyful gleam and bore no indication of the twisted deeds that had unfolded before them not so long ago, nor the dark imagination that gave them birth. Whatever game the monster was playing now was baffling to the harried Saiyan. Buu was behaving now as if they were reuniting as very good friends.

 

 

Buu could not explain the emotions that were overrunning his whole being. Had he a heart, it would be pounding inside of him at a rate to rival Vegeta's, but not from fear. The sight of Vegeta then was almost too much for Buu to bare. The Prince was not only alive and well(mostly), but he was standing right there before him, presenting himself like a gift. And what a gift he was.

All at once, Buu was overcome with an urge to catch the prince close to him. He didn't know why and didn't care to think on it, but in an instant, and with little effort, he had precisely that.

 

 

Before Vegeta could blink, he felt a force catch and trap him against a hard surface. The surface was a meager patch of Capsule Corps. wall left jutting out from the rubble, and the force was Buu's body, quick and solid, now pressed firmly against him. One of Buu's hands held both Vegeta's wrists while the other was clasped over the Saiyan's mouth. Buu examined his catch with the wide eyes and parted mouth of a child who was shocked to have just caught a bug.

Buu held his breath. Then slowly, ever so cautiously, the hand holding Vegeta's mouth was lifted away. Buu waited, as if Vegeta might explode any second. He zeroed in on Vegeta's face, gauging his reaction.

“Get off of me, you freak!” Vegeta spat when he realized Buu wasn't attacking him. His arms struggled in the hold of Buu's single hand but it was a pitiful attempt in his current state. The truth of the matter was that Vegeta had only been slightly masking his power when Buu had arrived. If Buu hadn't detected the hidden Saiyan, it was largely due to his severely weakened state.

Vegeta's struggles slowed after minutes when Buu made no move to either attack or subdue him further. When he looked up, he saw what looked like awe and relief on Buu's face. It seemed that the mutant was only examining him.

 

 

Buu knew what he was doing, though it may not have looked that way. He found he was exactly where he wanted to be, doing exactly what he wanted to do. It felt right. He hadn't felt this good all day. There was no conflict in his mind, no shouts of objection. At that moment, every molecule in his being was screaming, _Yes!_  And without any thought nor doubt, he leaned down to press his lips to Vegeta's.

 

 

“Vegeta? Vegeta are you alright? I'm starting to worry!”

Buu's eyes shot open. In an instant, his attention was snatched away. His free hand dove downward and Vegeta went rigid. Buu's hand was in Vegeta's pocket. When it emerged, in it was the communication device that was emitting Bulma's anxious voice.

The Saiyan was relieved at least that he hadn't reached into the other pocket, which contained the Dragon Radar.

Vegeta stood, breathing shallowly and slightly damp with nervous sweat. He could only wait to see what Buu would do.

The mutant examined the offensive device for only a moment before turning it to dust in his hand, his eyes returning to Vegeta.

The relief and elation that the Siayan had found in the deep crimson orbs before had all but vanished now. Instead Buu was cornering him with an accusing look. Accusing of what, Vegeta didn't know. Buu had no business accusing him of anything. The Saiyan returned the look with venom.

A buzzing sound came humming from above, distant at first but quickly closing in on them. Vegeta couldn't see but he had an idea of what it was by the agitated look on Buu's face.

The large hovering machine was descending down upon the plot where Capsule Corp. once stood and Buu eyed it like a belligerent insect. The craft remained airborne above them as though it were daring Buu to make a move.

Vegeta could imagine without looking, the angry, blue-haired woman in the pilot's seat, her fists clenched around the missile triggers. Of course she posed no threat in her flimsy little aircraft. The intrusion would only serve to irritate Buu.

Vegeta wanted the craft gone. How stupid could the woman be? Did she think she was going to rescue him? Now they were both dead-- or worse-- and that wouldn't help anything. He would have to somehow keep Buu's attention on himself so that the Earthlings could get away. Vegeta's eyes scanned the immediate parameter frantically as his mind went to work on a plan to get, if not both of them, at least Bulma out of this. He did his best to keep his panic inside, horrified that at any moment a blast would be sent hurtling through the air, erasing the craft and its inhabitants from existence.

But the blast didn't come.

Finally looking up, Vegeta saw Buu staring only at him again. The expression on the mutant's face was completely unexpected. Buu looked lost and confused, like he wasn't sure what he was doing there, or what Vegeta was doing there, and why, for that matter, they were standing so close to each other.

A play by play of everything thing that had taken place in the last few minutes appeared to flash across Buu's eyes and as he came to the end of it, the Saiyan before him seemed to come back into focus. The confusion in Buu passed and was replaced by something entirely different. Buu now fixed Vegeta with a cold look of judgement.

Without a word between them, Vegeta felt like he understood what the look meant.

Although it was Buu who'd leaned in for the kiss just moments before the aircraft arrived, the mutant was looking at Vegeta now as though _he_  had somehow perpetrated it. He eyed the Saiyan up and down with a sort of disgust. He had sobered up somewhere in the last twenty seconds and all romantic illusions had dissipated. Buu dropped the hand that held Vegeta's wrists and put a wide berth between them.

Vegeta was so confused by the reaction he didn't make a move to escape. All he could do was watch, unable to explain the way Buu's eyes were making him feel, but somehow sure he ought to be insulted by their heavy, disapproving gaze. It baffled the Saiyan.

After one last reproachful once-over, Buu turned quickly and fled from the destroyed plot.

Vegeta stood there for a few moments longer watching the pink form vanish into the distance. He wasn't paying attention to the humming of the air glider growing louder as the craft descended. He didn't hear the frenzied footsteps of Bulma as she stumbled and leaped through the rocky wreckage to get to him. Vegeta only stared into the sky.

 

  

Buu was standing alone on the peak of a jutting cliff. He'd been there for a while, having a lot to think about and a lot to get his mind around, so to speak.

In his mind, Buu went over and over what had almost happened at Capsule Corp., not certain at all of what had driven him to behave the way he had. It was certainly a surprise to see Vegeta standing there alive after their last battle... but why had he embraced him that way? Sure, Buu had been riding quite a high from killing off Goku's loved ones and he was certainly feeling very giddy. Perhaps that was why he'd done it. Buu had to call his own lie. He could still feel Vegeta's firm chest rising and falling rapidly against his own and smell the sweat in his hair and he knew something in himself wasn't right.

One thing was certain: He couldn't allow what had happened back at Capsule Corp. to happen again and he feared it was getting worse. Although the voice of Goku seemed to be smothered, the tenacious Earth Saiyan's mind was still very present and had an invisible but firm hand in Buu's every action. Buu needed an ally. He needed someone with a clear head and a neutral position who could act and think indiscriminately. While Goku was fused to his mind, Buu feared he could not be trusted to make sound decisions on his own. It was unfortunate that he could not dispose of the insufferable Earth Saiyan without forfeiting his new, awesome power in doing so.

It was clear what he needed to do. It would involve some risk, but it needed to be done.  


	5. The Stolen Moment

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Amidst the chaos and destruction and loss, Vegeta and Dende share a quiet moment on The Lookout

****

All was quiet on Dende's Lookout. But there was tension in the air.

Whispers in the many halls carried only faintly to a large and open guest bedroom where Vegeta was leaning on a wall by the window. He didn't have to strain to make out Bulma's bouncing voice. However, he only caught wisps of Dende's, which was much gentler.

“He's not talking to anyone!" came Bulma's shriek from down the hall. "Won't you just try, Dende? I'm sure you're the only one he would open up to!”

The crass woman never did quite grasp the concept of whispering.

Vegeta didn't catch Dende's response but it sounded like he was trying to calm and restrain her. Dende had a knack for getting in people's head's and making them feel calm, even when they didn't want to be. Vegeta knew that it wouldn't be long before the young Namekian was visiting his room with the intention of getting in his own head. Vegeta hadn't decided yet whether or not he would let him. Until then, the prince was content zoning them all out entirely. He turned to the open window.

He was so tired.

Quiet moments like this were the worst. He tried to focus on the wind gently brushing his face. The sun was setting and the sky was a flame of orange and blood-red. The colors looked violent to Vegeta and made him think of pain and a suffering that never seemed to end in a barren place where no one would ever find him.

He shut his eyes away from the vivid brightness of it but it was still in his mind.

_“Kakarot!”_

_The beast looked down on him with those prying dark eyes._

_“Say it.”_

_“Please...please fuck me.”_

Vegeta crammed the heels of his palms into his eye sockets and grunted, trying to block out the images. But the sounds of rustling leaves and deep moaning and his own shaky voice still resounded in his head. He felt a wave of shame.

_“Please fuck me”_

With a yell, he threw his fists into the wall behind him and slid down to the floor, hiding his head in his arms. At that point, Dende appeared in the doorway.

Vegeta threw the intruder a killing look. Dende seemed to understand that the look wasn't meant for him and didn't falter as he entered the room.

The quiet Namekian walked softly over to the window and knelt down in front of Vegeta.

The prince watched him curiously, unsure of what he would do next.

To the Guardian, the Saiyan looked like a lost and wild boy. Dende had always seen the boy there, but until recently, it had only been in glimpses. Now there he was, small and alone and undone, needing so much but unsure of how to ask, unsure of who to trust. So instead of reaching out to anyone, he chased away everyone.

Dende could see that the little boy had been pushed too far and was on the brink of either asking or breaking.

Dende leaned in closer to the snarling face. Vegeta, uncertain, held a threat in his eyes but Dende did not hesitate nor did he appear to notice the discomfort his nearness seemed to cause the Saiyan.

At the same moment that Dende was seeing the boy in the prince, Vegeta finally saw the young Namekian, who they'd found alone and orphaned all those years ago, as a man. He saw some of Piccolo in eyes that held so much ageless wisdom. He wondered how Dende had come to know people so well, how he knew he could safely get this close to them. Vegeta was slightly jealous. He had never been able to connect easily with others and until that moment, he'd always told himself it was by choice.

Dende reached his hand out and placed it on Vegeta's head. Vegeta, so startled by the act, almost jerked away from the hand. But as he felt it on his head, gentle and warm and noninvasive, his body began to relax. He looked into Dende's calm and knowing face and opened his mouth to speak. he wanted to say something dismissing and harsh, something that would sting the boy and give him a fraction of the pain Vegeta felt. But the words fell away, along with all the tension in his body once the green skin grazed his own. So Vegeta stopped trying to fight and eased beneath the touch, unused to the tenderness it offered. His head felt heavy and he let it fall and rest on his arms, propped on his knees.

He felt like the moment, here with Dende in the quiet still room, was stolen. Vegeta had no business feeling pleasure and ease when so much was wrong in the world-- when so much was wrong in himself. But he found that all he could do was rest there, nuzzling the hand as it moved to stroke his hair. Small whimpers were escaping his mouth before he realized it and a warmth trailed down his cheeks.

He was crying and he couldn't stop himself.

He tapped his toes absently, waiting for it to pass.

Dende said nothing and expected nothing. He gave what comfort he could and Vegeta accepted it.

Some time later, the Namekian was sitting silently under the window a comfortable distance from Vegeta. His arms were propped on his knees, mimicking the prince's pose but somehow not emanating the same guardedness.

“Why is he doing this?” Vegeta finally said. He'd composed himself and felt more opened now to speaking, as though the tears had washed away whatever was clogging his emotions.

“I know as much as you do,” said Dende.

“He left me alive,” said Vegeta, thinking aloud. “After we fought. Why would he do that? And then today, he...” he seemed to doubt his own recollection. “He tried to...”

“I think there is a Saiyan pull in him,” Dende cut it, and Vegeta was grateful to not have to finish his thought. “As well as a Namekian pull and a human one. All of these things, I think, have built up in him to such a degree that his personality can no longer go unaffected. Compassion and love, like hate and sadism, are not beyond him.

“I will say this.” Dende continued after a pause, and Vegeta looked over to him. “It seems like the most powerful being Buu absorbs will have the greatest influence on him-- not only in power but in behavior.”

“You think that Kakarot...” Vegeta began tonelessly and sharp images of The Grove flashed in his mind.

“I think that Goku's presence has certainly had an effect on Buu's personality,” Dende quickly interjected. “I do believe that his strong influence in Buu's mind contributed to what happened-- however indirectly. Buu's natural lust for destruction and chaos mixed with your and Goku's deep kinship had an effect that none of us could have predicted. While Goku's absorption may have lent to the horrible thing that happened, I believe that it is also the reason you are alive. I don't think you should look any further into it than that.”

Vegeta turned away. He didn't feel repulsed anymore by the mention of what happened. Now he just felt wearied by it and he longed to leave it all behind him.

“Can you see him now?”

Dende closed his eyes and sat quietly for a long while and Vegeta wondered if he was going to share his vision at all.

“He's standing on a cliff.”

While Vegeta didn't have the Guardian's gift, the image of Buu standing still and quiet on the cliff manifested itself in his mind, easily and vividly.

“He's waiting.”

“For what?”

Dende watched for a few moments longer.

“Now it looks like he's in pain. He's screaming.”

Vegeta wasn't sure how to take that bit of information and was about to ask the Namekian to clarify on what he'd seen but soon he didn't need to.

Dende and Vegeta opened their eyes at the same time and looked at each other. Although the both of them knew from Dende's vision that Buu was standing far below them on a distant canyon, the sound of his agonized screams were now echoing all around them.

The two stood up and looked out the window as though Buu would be standing out there to greet them. The mutant wasn't there, yet his screams had somehow carried up to the Lookout and were reverberating throughout its halls. Everyone residing in the sanctuary peeked out from the many rooms and ran out to the clearing in search of the source.

It was definitely Buu. To Vegeta, it sounded like he was dying.

the Saiyan turned to Dende as if the young Namekian would have an answer but the look he saw on the Guardian's face only mirrored his own.


	6. The Spawn of a Monster

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Buu can no longer trust himself and so he does something drastic. He splits himself in two. Could this divide serve to help the Earthlings' mission, or is this new foe even more terrible and twisted than his creator?

 

 

All was still on Dende's Lookout. The gathered survivors waited with bated breath-- for what, they weren't sure.

“Well?” Vegeta asked impatiently, finger tapping on his folded arms. The Guardian had been standing there for a while now and hadn't said a word. His eyes were closed, but with his powerful sight, he could see more than any of them. Right now he was seeing why the screaming had stopped.

Dende was silent for a moment longer, then said, “there's two of them.”

gasps of shock and horror split the strained silence and all at once the crowd was in an uproar.

“What! How are there two of them?” Chichi shrieked.

“So he can just sprout a duplicate of himself whenever he chooses?” Yamcha whaled. “That's not fair! How are we supposed to compete with that!”

“Yes but don't think of it so much as an advantage,” came Dende's gentle voice amidst the hysteria, and everyone went still. “The procedure appears to have split his power between the two of them. If you focus, you'll sense that neither of them is as strong as the original. Unfortunately however, they are both still extraordinarily powerful.”

The others exchanged frowns.

“This one is less powerful,” Vegeta said above the murmurs. It was more of a statement than a question.

“Yes, Vegeta,” said Dende warily, catching the look in the Saiyan's eye. “But as I said-- _still_ very powerful. I'll put it this way, yours and Goku's energy put together wasn't enough to beat Buu and that was _before_ he absorbed Goku. With a fraction of that power, he's still an enormous force, Vegeta. You can't be thinking--”

“What, Guardian? I can't be thinking of taking advantage of this opportunity that may never come up again? You expect us to wait it out? Just see what happens? Buu has been doing nothing but grow more and more powerful while we just sit up here wasting time!”

“Vegeta,” cried Bulma. “At least wait until we get the Dragon Balls!”

“Augh! If I hear another word about the Dragon Balls!" The Saiyan threw his arms up. "If there was ever a chance we could beat Buu, it's now and I'm not going to sit here and wait for it to pass. Even if it means just killing a fraction of him, I'll kill him piece by piece!” He strode to the edge of the Lookout.

“Vegeta, now isn't the time!” Dende shouted, but the haughty prince flew off. Bulma ran to edge after him and watched his form descend.

“This might be good,” Dende said, appearing beside her. He watched as the Saiyan vanished beneath the clouds.

“Good?” Bulma shot the Namekian an exasperated look. “How can this be good, Dende? Buu's going to kill him!”

“Buu won't kill him. I know he won't. At least this way we can see how powerful this second Buu really is. We can learn what we're up against.”

“Great. We'll just observe and take notes up here while Vegeta gets beaten to a pulp.”

“We don't know what will happen. We can only wait.”

Bulma stared long and hard at the too-calm Guardian, so frustrated she couldn't find words. Finally, resigning to the helpless position in which they found themselves, she put her hand on the young Namekian's shoulder and closed her eyes.

“Might as well,” she said and sighed.

Soon, other's gathered to see what was going on, then more. Before long, all the gang was crowded around the Guardian of Earth. Together, they joined hands and minds and waited to see what would unfold below.

 

 

Buu appraised his spawn with a fathering look. He didn't see perfection because only _he,_  Buu, as a whole could be perfect. He did see brilliance though.

The process of splitting his body was one thing but creating an elaborate incision in his mind was something far more complex. If it was successful, he'd be damned proud. He couldn't tell for certain yet, but he felt that every part of Goku was still wholly intact within himself, which would mean that this other being wouldn't have any of him. And if he-- his creation-- didn't have any Goku at all, then he couldn't be tainted by any of the Earth Saiyan's weaknesses.

It was brilliant.

Until Buu worked out whatever was going on in his head, he would need this extra mind, this separate entity, to work alongside him to do...whatever it was he was doing.

Buu gave his head a shake to focus himself. Then he looked at his new creation.

“You are Bow,” he said to it. “You are my ally and you will work alongside me to achieve our common goal.”

“I am Bow,” said the creation and it grinned. The voice was lower, steadier than Buu's. However, he had a younger face and was slightly smaller. His head tilted low as he returned Buu's look of appraisal with a look of quiet confidence, as though he was aware of the great achievement he represented. There was a mischievous glint in his dark eyes, which didn't match his creator's.

Buu laughed, loudly and raucously and Bow laughed with him, however it was a lower more course sound. This celebration would have gone on for some time but was quickly cut short when the intruder made himself know.

“Well,” came Vegeta's voice behind them. “That's taking split personalities to a new level.”

Buu stopped laughing and spun around to see the arrogant Saiyan watching them, arms folded over his chest.

“Vegeta,” the name fell from Buu's lips without a thought. He was so caught off guard by the prince he wasn't sure at the moment what else to say. Instantly, he remembered the disorienting nature of their last encounter and felt even more at a loss.

Vegeta noticed but tried not to dwell on the change in Buu's face. His features were more Saiyan than even before. The likeness seemed just short of dawning the face of Kakarot. Had it not been for the pink skin, black eyes, and antenna in place of unruly dark hair, Vegeta might have been standing before a mirror image of his long-time rival.

“I see you've made another freak,” Vegeta huffed, shunting the odd stare Buu was giving him and indicating with a disgusted nod to Bow. “Needed a babysitter?”

Buu had been staring at Vegeta, mouth agape, for a few stretched seconds, apparently still stunned by his arrival. His dark eyes scanned the slight man as words seemed utterly incapable of forming in his mouth. At Vegeta's comment however, he was shaken from his stupor.

“Ah," he said, composing himself, "I don't think you've met my friend.” Buu indicated pleasantly to the creature over his shoulder who resembeled him so closely they could be brothers. “This is Bow. You won't like him, he's not as nice as me.”

Vegeta sensed that the power of Bow was indeed inferior to that of Buu's and a rich excitement flared in him greater than any he'd felt in a long time. There was hope yet.

“Well, maybe we ought to get acquainted. If you'd excuse us,” he replied and before Buu could respond, the prince was rushing forward.

Buu was just able to dodge but soon realized that it was Bow whom Vegeta was going for.

Bow for his part, didn't budge from his spot and took a gloved fist right to the nose. As his head flew back, it appeared he'd been caught completely off guard. Vegeta took advantage of his opponent's stunned state and unleashed an onslaught of jabs and knees onto the new mutant.

 

 

“Fool!” Dende hissed, fists clenched at his sides. “He's so brash!”

“Well, there's Vegeta for you,” Bulma groaned.

 

 

Vegeta maintained his ferocious barrage of attacks, pummeling the unprepared mutant until they were off the cliff and hovering in the air. Buu watched, mouth agape, just managing to keep up with what was happening.

The one sided fight carried on relentlessly for a short while and ended with a large blast dealt by the Saiyan. It was a short-ranged blast that went pointblank into the duplicate's gut.

The blast dissipated and Vegeta was left panting, arms still extended. The quick and sudden outburst took much out of him but he reasoned it was well worth the energy spent.

The smoke cleared and soon, to Vegeta's dismay, the whole form of Bow emerged, looking virtually untouched.

Bow watched Vegeta patiently and the prince's eyes went wide.

 

 

“He has the patience of Piccolo in him,” said Master Roshi thoughtfully. “There's intelligence there.”

“Funny, you'd think absorbing Goku would have diluted that a bit.”

“Cram it, Oolong,” said Chichi.

“No, no, he's right,” said Dende. “This new Buu … he's different. He's not at all like the first one. It's not the same power and his behavior has changed. I don't think that there's as much Goku in him at all.”

“Alright, can we quit debating which side he gets it from and just watch,” came Krillin's harried voice in the croud.

 

 

“Is it my turn now?” Bow asked the Saiyan, head cocked.

Grimacing, Vegeta staggered back.

Bow snatched the Saiyan's firing arm and held it tightly in his hand.

Vegeta tried unsuccessfully to pull away and threw another punch at the mutant's head.

In an instant, the second fist was captured. Bow now held both of Vegeta's arms captive in his painful grip. Helpless in the iron hold, Vegeta could only hover and squirm, snarling at the grinning mutant.

He grimaced and sweat, waiting for Bow to make the next move. He didn't have to wait long.

Leaning back bodily, the newest Buu poised himself before thrusting forward again and ramming his head into Vegeta's.

With a wail of shock and pain, Vegeta fell back. Bow released his wrists only to catch the stunned Saiyan in a lethal bear hug.

Vegeta kicked and swung his head around but the hold that encompassed his torso and arms was unyielding. Bow's grinning face leaned away from the violently squirming prince as much to avoid getting butted in the head as to watch him squirm.

Vegeta grunted and cursed and struggled with all of his might but the embrace only grew tighter. His arms and face felt warm from lack of circulation.

Tighter and tighter Bow squeezed him as effortlessly as if he were a doll.

Vegeta gasped. His legs soon quit kicking and his vision went dim.

 

 

“He's just so sadistic," Yamcha said helplessly. "Who could he get this from? He's freakin' psycho.”

“That's all Buu,” Dende said solemnly.

 

 

Vegeta felt his lungs contracting against their will and the creaking threat of slowly breaking ribs. He shut his eyes and gritted his teeth around an agonized howl, succumbing to the gory end that was sure to come.

When it did end, it wasn't how he'd expected.

“Not now,” came a cool and steady voice that sounded to Vegeta like it came from the end of a long hallway.

Bow removed his fixated stare from the twisted, agonized features of the prince in his hold and turned to his maker. Through slits of eyelids, Vegeta could see the almost unreadable face of Bow. He would describe the look as completely empty; soulless.

“He's not healed yet. He's barely even sport,” Buu said dismissively.

With a tweak of his brow and a slight shrug of agreement, Bow released the Saiyan. Dizzy and numb, Vegeta was so unprepared to be released that he dropped a good distance before catching himself in an unsteady hover.

He massaged his bruised arms, while taking deep rasping breaths. When he looked up, he saw Buu and Bow hovering there, but making no move to attack him. It was Buu who was looking down at him. The senior mutant wore a stony and unreadable expression. They held each other's stare for a few moments before Buu turned to say something to his creation and the two took off into the horizon.

Vegeta watched them vanish, still panting and aching all over. He let out a howl of rage that was heard all the way up at the Lookout.

 

 

“Well you should be glad that you didn't suffer any serious damage, ” scolded Dende softly. “Maybe now you'll listen when I tell you to get some rest.”

“Just give me a damn senzu bean.”

“We're working on that. You guys used up what we had in the first fight with Buu.”

Vegeta gave a frustrated grunt and the sheets jerked as he kicked his feet beneath them.

“Listen, just rest for tonight. You'll need to rebuild your energy. Now we know what we're up against.”

Dende left Vegeta in his darkened bedroom like a grounded teenager. There was nothing to keep the anxious Saiyan from hopping back out of bed and storming off to go train, but Dende had a feeling he wouldn't, if not to concede to the Guardian's wishes then for his own body's obvious need for recuperation.

Dende patrolled along the open patio until he came upon a room filled with chattering voices.

“What's the point? It's not like any other planet would be safer. It'll only be a matter of time before he goes and conquers them too! I vote we just let him kill us and hang out at King Kai's!”

“Krillin!” Bulma's voice boomed.

“What!”

“That's cowardice-- not to mention completely ridiculous.”

“No, he's right,” chimed Yamcha. “'Cause we're already dead, what more can he do to us, you know?”

Dende stood in the doorway.

“Well then, say it all blows over while you're safe at King Kai's. How then do you plan on coming back, geniuses?” Bulma crossed her arms over her chest and waited.

“Easy, Namekian Dragon Balls,” Krillin said simply.

“Right, and what happens when he destroys Namek along with its Dragon Balls?”

“I got it!” Krillin clapped his hands after a brief pause. “When we die, we take the Dragon Balls with us!”

There was a solid smacking sound from Bulma's hand finding the back of Krillin's head.

“Ouch! Hey!”

Bulma looked up and saw the young guardian watching them with a smile that was both happy and solemn.

They all greeted Dende warmly and Bulma went to stand next to him.

“How is he?” She asked low.

“His pride is more wounded than his body. Fortunately, I think his body heals much quicker."

The two shared a genuine laugh at the hard Saiyan they'd both come to care for.

“Do you think he can beat them?” Bulma asked, voice going serious.

“I don't know, honestly. But I've been around these Saiyans too long to make the mistake of underestimating them. I wouldn't soon count Vegeta out of this fight.”

Bulma nodded but her thoughts seemed to trail elsewhere.

“So what do you think about this new Buu," She asked finally. "Why would Buu create a duplicate of himself? Why would he _need_ another one?”

They left the light and noise of the lounge and walked together along the quiet, moon-lit patio.

“It's hard to say,” Dende admitted. “It's clear that Buu felt he needed this new creature but I can't say exactly why.”

“Well why do you think?” Bulma pressed, sensing that the Guardian was keeping something from her.

“I think,” Dende began, choosing his words carefully. “That Buu feels a weakness in himself. A weakness that arose when he absorbed Goku.”

“Weakness?”

“Yes. Whatever the nature of this weakness, it was enough for him to feel he couldn't trust his mind in its whole state. He needed a separate one, one that was free of the weakness. What it will mean for us all, I don't know. I can't say anymore. I feel that everything will make itself clear in time.”

“Dende.”

“Yes.

“Is he going to be alright?”

They'd come upon Vegeta's room and Bulma was peering in. In the glow of the moonlight cast through the modest bedroom window, they could see the heaving and sweat-glistening form of Vegeta twitching and toiling in his sheets, apparently asleep. The sound of hissing breaths and shaky moans filled the otherwise quiet room.

Dende knew that Bulma was no longer referring to his physical condition.

“Whatever haunts him, it's something we can't help him defeat. He must overcome it himself. Worry about what you can do for the rest, Bulma.”

The human woman turned to him, a look of wonder on her face.

“The Dragon Balls, Bulma.”

“Yes,” she said firmly. “The Dragon Balls.”

 

 


	7. The Calm Before the Storm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As the new plan becomes finding the Dragon Balls, Vegeta is unwillingly roped into the role of Bulma's errand boy.

 

Buu's plan had unfolded meticulously.

The mutant hovered there taking in the sight of his fledgling. Bow had just leveled a major city without any noticeable dent in his power, but not before turning the entire occupancy of a major penitentiary into cream cakes and downing them all like tic-tacs. The fact that he hadn't even offered to share was a small affront to Buu but then again, Bow was a bit more abrasive than himself and Buu couldn’t fault him for it. He'd been made to be that way after all-- cold and unsympathetic. The young mutant now hovered some feet away, flaunting his speed and agility as he threw swift jabs and kicks into the air. Buu looked on appreciatively but beneath the proud grin was an odd sting of regret.

What was more beautiful than the successful creation of the being before him was the sight of a plan falling neatly into place. Buu had managed to destroy all of Goku's worldly attachments, leaving his conscience nothing to cling to and so blending what was left of the trophy Saiyan seamlessly into his mind. Buu no longer felt or heard a separate presence in his thoughts. He didn't feel torn between what he knew and what he felt. The foreign and imposing cloud that had so relentlessly hung over him had finally lifted and there was now only Buu.

But while he'd become admittedly smoother around the edges, there was one fault in Buu's plan, a negative side effect. It wasn't the fact that he'd had to split his power-- though the sudden decrease was slightly jarring; Vegeta's prompt defeat at the hands of Bow had quickly disposed of that fear. No, what pulled at Buu and left him with a distant feeling of foreboding had nothing to do with Bow. The being before him had proved satisfactory in every aspect.

The fault, though it stung Buu to admit it, was in himself.

Buu was careful to keep all of Goku’s traits and powers out of the new creature so as to make Bow a cold and unbiased warrior and also so that he, Buu, could keep all of the awesome power of the Super Saiyan 3 to himself. While this allowed him to remain immeasurably powerful, he had become more susceptible to the traits that were holding him back to begin with. He had given so much to Bow but kept all of Goku so now there was even less to dilute the Saiyan weaknesses he'd been working so hard to counteract. The traits of Goku would become more potent, he knew. He couldn't see it, but he felt different somehow.

Perhaps that was the price of honing such a great power. Buu looked down at his hands, his hands that could clear a planet with a flick, and noticed how they'd changed since parting with Bow. There was something distinctly Saiyan about them. Still, he felt the power within them and set his regrets aside. If he needed to take on this small weakness, this emotional vulnerability, in order to have such a power, then so be it.

Silently he meditated over his own gift and curse. He felt pride and loathing for it. It would keep him alive and immeasurably powerful but he knew, somehow, in his gut _he knew,_ that the absorption of Goku would one day lead to his his end. 

The thought was brief but resonant. He didn't know where it came from. There was no voice in his head, no laughter mocking him from that isolated portion of his mind. It was only a feeling and it vibrated throughout his whole being. And he knew it was right.

Buu clenched and unclenched his new, strange fists absently, staring downward at the ruins of the city and fighting off the sinking feeling growing in his gut at the sight of it.

Bow, having felt the spotlight of attention leave him, stopped showboating as there was no one to showboat for.

“Well,” he stated, seeing the blank look in his maker's eye. “Are we just going to wait here?”

Buu looked at him and realized they'd been hovering there idly for quite some time.

“We'll do as I say,” Buu said with a calm severity and he began to descend to the ground. “We'll make camp.”

Bow watched him glide downward but didn't move and didn't look enthused at all by the idea.

“What of the humans?” he called after his maker. “And the Saiyan?”

“Are you hungry?”

 

 

Vegeta stood in the shade of a large palm tree that surely defied several laws of nature just by existing there in the hovering temple.

From where he stood, Vegeta had an uninterrupted view of the open yard. There, huddled together in a small circle on the white tile, sat Dende and four small children. The young Namekian was reading aloud to them from a book and they all listened intently.

Vegeta didn't recognize the children and didn't know where they'd come from. He guessed they'd been pulled from the wreckage of one the many desolate cities before Buu could find them and eat them. Vegeta wondered if their parents had been rescued too or if they were here alone. The prince had never seen them before. Where had Dende been keeping them? The grand temple with its many mysteries, apparently had space enough to spare for anyone who needed it. Since when did Dende's Lookout become the local shelter? The Guardian was too sentimental, Vegeta decided. Soon this place would be crawling with orphaned children and teenagers and probably every stray dog, cat and gerbil from the local humane society. Was there no sanctity anymore?

Vegeta listened from a distance to the story the Guardian told. With his soft voice and gentle manor, it seemed obvious to the Saiyan that Dende would be good with children.

Vegeta didn't have that same gift with kids. His relationship with his own son was prime evidence of that. Trunks was a patient boy, more patient than Vegeta deserved. He was gone now. The former prince had been rudely reminded of that fact days earlier when he looked into the face of the new creature, which Buu had pulled out of himself. There was a wild disregard in the new mutant's eyes, a taunt and a youthful sense of entitlement. Vegeta realized later that it was all the brashness of the young half-Saiyan whom Vegeta had quietly come to adore, and something inside of him ached. He grimaced and tucked it away.

Dende read on until Mr. Popo came out and called the children in for lunch.

Vegeta didn't watch them but heard their cheerful voices go distant as they skipped off to the dining room.

Watching them off, Dende closed his book but didn't leave his spot in the sun. He rested there and appeared to be thinking over things.

The day was long and drawn out and far too relaxed for Vegeta's comfort. He recognized it as a false calm and suspected he was the only one who did.

He'd brought back the Dragon Radar and they could now move on to the next phase of their plan. The Earth invention had been long retired and needed some tweaking before it was in good working order again. Bulma had been busy repairing it ever since Vegeta had returned with it those days ago. Hazy images of Buu appearing suddenly at Capsule Corporation before reducing the place to rubble floated in Vegeta’s mind. The sheer glee in the pink creature’s dark eyes upon spotting the Saiyan had been a shock. Then the mutant was very near him again and he was leaning in…

Vegeta shook the disorienting vision from his head.

He expected the radar would be ready soon. Not that he cared.

While he waited, Vegeta generally spent his days in a secluded training room in the depths of the temple. He had no interest in squabbling over what to do about Buu with the others, and he certainly didn't attend the meetings (much to the irritation of Bulma who organized them and adamantly insist that his attendance was imperative). All in all, Vegeta generally kept to himself.

But every so often, on quiet days when people were busy doing their separate tasks and not roaming the premise, pestering him simply by breathing, he would be drawn out to the sunlight to seek the calming presence of the Guardian.

He never sought out Dende directly, but the Saiyan's stance and disquieted air were revealing enough that the Guardian would know that the Saiyan was in need of someone to talk to.

On days like this, When Vegeta didn't feel his skin crawling so badly and when he wasn't fighting back some mixture of rage and apathy, when he didn't need to pour out his darkest fears and deepest regrets into the young and patient Namekian, he found himself seeking out Dende's presence simply for the intoxicating calm that seemed to radiate from his being. It was as though the very air surrounding the Namekian was laced with some mild sedative. While Vegeta would not admit it aloud, he'd developed a craving for it. Just being near Dende never failed to eased his burdens, at least a little.

Vegeta was back to his full power, and stronger even, thanks to his Saiyan genes. A few days earlier, Dende had presented Vegeta with a Senzu bean. Vegeta was eager to immediately get back to an intense training regimen. It was unfortunate that the plants produced so few and took such a long time to harvest, but Vegeta didn't plan on being beaten so thoroughly again.

“Taking a break from the training I see?” came Bulma's cheery voice.

Vegeta acknowledged her with a look.

“Good timing! So you can do me a little favor.”

What was it about him standing there, minding his own business that gave off the impression that he wanted an errand? Whenever he did this, people seemed to get the urge to come up to him and start giving him personal chores. This was why he hardly ever came out anymore.

“No, no, no,” Bulma said quickly, seeing the shift in the prince's demeanor. “This is very important.” She pulled the Dragon Radar from her pocket.

“Busy,” Vegeta said flatly, not up for the condescension today. As though he wasn't the strongest being alive. As though he wasn’t their single greatest hope for salvation. Whatever it was, she could easily get someone else to do it. One of the humans they’d rescued who'd done nothing since arriving but eat their food and wander around uselessly. Or better yet-- Krillin.

“Come on Vegeta,” Bulma pressed, voice dropping to a more natural, serious tone. “We need your speed and we can't send someone else. What if they run into Buu?”

Vegeta eyed her, irritation etching his features.

“Since when did I become the errand dog of this institution?”

“You're not the errand dog, Vegeta,” she paused with a look that, to Vegeta, suggested she was trying very hard to think of some evidence to prove otherwise. Finally, giving up, she said, frazzled, “it's not like you're doing anything right now anyway!”

“Oh!”

 

 

Dende heard the escalating voices and, with a sigh, reluctantly rose from his meditation to go and try to referee the exchange.

They went on for a while longer before Vegeta grudgingly accepted the radar, being none too gentle as he snatched it from his wife.

“Don't be such a toddler!” Bulma hissed.

Dende laughed nervously, glad that the dispute was settled. He was of course on Bulma's side. He knew that Vegeta was a vital piece in the plan, but the Dragon Balls were paramount. Their careful and prompt collection would mean the rescue of the planet from the clutches of Buu. But still, Bulma should have known that Vegeta would react that way to any mention of the Dragon Balls. The current demand of the magical orbs now paralleled the demand for Goku when he'd been alive, Vegeta surely realized. It was as though the former prince was always second in regard even now that his former rival was gone. And now, he was being sent to fetch the things-- the marks of his incompetence. Dende felt for the haughty Saiyan but didn't know if they would have time for Vegeta to attain the power it would take to even stand a chance against Buu and his new partner in destruction.

“Listen, for now I just need you to go see if it's working,” Bulma tried to assuage Vegeta, who didn't even look at her. “I'm not certain how exact the reading is right now but it says there's a Dragon Ball about 200 kilometers east of here. It’s a tentative reading so you may not find anything.” At that, Vegeta’s did seem to relax a little. “But I need you to go check it out anyway. If it’s working, then we got our first Dragon ball! The worst that could happen is it’s not there and you can come back and we’ll adjust from there. Got it?”

Vegeta knew that that certainly wasn’t the _worst_ that could happen, but he didn’t voice it. His eyes flickered for an instant to Dende.

“So just check it out and come back,” Bulma reiterated when Vegeta didn’t respond.

“No, I was thinking of just staying there, waiting for more Dragon Balls to pop up,” Vegeta spat sarcastically and flew off without another word.

“Hey, and be careful with that!" Bulma shouted after him. "It's the only one we've got!”

 

 

Once again, Vegeta was being sent on errands. He couldn't help feeling that that was all they felt he'd been good for recently. It hadn’t helped that he'd been defeated decisively both times he'd tried to confront Buu. Still, didn't they realize that Saiyan power escalated at a rate unrivaled by any other warrior race in the universe? With every loss, he gained a significant boost in energy. He was getting stronger and closer to Buu's level, he knew it. Even if Buu _did_ have Saiyan genes in him, his power would not grow at a rate anywhere near Vegeta's because he had left both battles virtually unscathed. Vegeta knew he was on the brink of hitting new and remarkable heights in strength. He just needed a little more time.

Vegeta had been flying for nearly an hour when something in the distance snapped him to attention.

It was pink, powerful, and fast, and it was coming right for him. Before Vegeta could formulate a plan, Buu's spawn was upon him. He was alone.

The mutant slammed to a halt in front of him.

Vegeta could tell that he hadn't intended to run into him either, but he didn't look so much surprised as mildly intrigued.

So, they they were, each caught unprepared. Yet, the difference was that the Saiyan was in the unfortunate position of being the less powerful of the two.

“Hello,” Bow said simply and one side of his mouth tweaked upward in a half-grin that looked oddly void of anything like happiness.

Vegeta wasn't ready to face him again in battle but he would fight him if it came to that. He just needed to hide the Dragon Radar. If a beating would see to it that their stupid plan wasn't thwarted, Vegeta would take one for the team. It wouldn't be the first time and, knowing himself, it wouldn't be the last.

Vegeta didn't return the greeting but offered a wince of acknowledgement to the other as he carefully slid the radar into his back pocket.

“Off to someplace?” Bow finally asked, low voice feigning a conversational tone.

If Bow had some place else to be, he wasn't showing it. Vegeta knew he looked too suspicious just flying around alone.

“Just a stroll,” Vegeta said through his teeth. His expression was steel as he watched the fledgling mutant.

This answer didn't appear to register at all on Bow. That, or he was just too occupied intently gauging Vegeta's facial expression and body language for anything that revealed the Saiyan's true intentions. He still held that half-cocked grin that made Vegeta wonder if Buu had distributed a fully functional mind into his spawn or if he'd been remiss on some of the more vital parts. The fledgling looked half deranged.

After a long couple of minutes, in which the Saiyan spent preparing for the sudden wild attack from Bow, the mutant finally said, “well if you are going some place, you might change your plans.”

“Why's that?” Vegeta spat. His body was tense and covered in a sheet of sweat. His chest ached somehow as though the pounding of his heart threatened to break through his rib cage.

“Because,” Bow said with ease, “it's probably gone.” His fanged grin widened.

“Bow!” At a rate of speed Vegeta hadn't been able to detect, Buu suddenly appeared between them. The senior mutant only glanced at the Saiyan before turning to Bow.

Vegata couldn’t help staring at the mutant’s face. His features were so striking that Vegeta forgot his initial surprise at the mutant's sudden presence. _His face_ , Vegeta thought. It was just too Saiyan and it made Vegeta feel a deep toil in the pit of his stomach. Would the sight of Buu always have this effect on him?

Buu didn't stay for long, but gave a significant nod to his fledgling before fling off again in the direction Bow had been heading when he and Vegeta had crossed paths.

Bow watched his creator fly ahead before his eyes fell back on the prince.

The fledgling of Buu gave a slight nod which Vegeta returned, noting the dark look in the other's eyes and the promise behind it. _I'll see you later_ , the crimson irises said.

Vegeta hovered there for a few minutes more after Bow flew away. In the entire time that the mutant was near him, Vegeta had been frozen in what he now knew was absolute fear. When he felt secure that the two Buu's would not return, he took a deep breath. His clothing was damp from the rivulets of sweat that covered him and his head ached. After taking another moment, he flew on.

He went in the direction the radar pointed, away from the Buu’s.

Vegeta couldn't help feeling like he'd narrowly escaped something he shouldn't have. He knew when he saw Buu’s creation (Bow, had he called him?), that he wouldn't make it to where he was going. He knew it. Had Buu not shown up, Vegeta thought, he probably wouldn't be flying away right now. He almost couldn't believe it. He argued with himself knowing that he shouldn't have been left there unharmed. They couldn't have just passed him by, and without even an attempt to attack. It was impossible.

Vegeta's breaths were coming harshly as though he'd been holding it the whole time the mutant had been staring him down. Adrenaline was still pumping through him. When Buu had arrived, it had peaked.

Why had Buu left him there? And where were they going that was so important that they couldn't stop and spare a moment to pummel him again? Perhaps they were bored of him.

Suddenly, Vegeta heard a fanatic beeping from his back pocket and remembered what he was there for.

Below him was an endless stretch of rock formations and deep canyons. According to the radar, there was also a Dragon Ball.

The pointer on the screen indicated to a spot in an open plane. Vegeta knew the Dragon Ball wouldn't be buried so the radar had to have been some distance off like Bulma had predicted.

Vegeta tuned his eyes to search for the bright, gleaming orb. Like a hawk, he rose above and surveyed the surrounding trenches. He felt a peak in his body, an anticipation for his quarry. He supposed the excitement he felt had become intuitive from a long history of chasing these things down for his own gratification and personal advancement. There was a time when he would have killed for a Dragon Ball, and did. Now, however, he didn't want it. It was an odd, backwards feeling.

Vegeta searched the area for some time. He didn’t find the Dragon Ball. The thrill of the hunt ebbed after a while too, and he was growing bored and tired from the stress of earlier. The longer he stayed there, the more he began to feared that the Buu’s would come back this way. Every distant sound or flicker of movement on the horizon, made him freeze and wait intently. He didn't want to risk another run-in with them.

After another hour, he resigned to return to the Lookout.

As he passed over the edge of the canyons, Vegeta's eye was caught by a dark shadow in the rocks. A cave. Distantly, something pulled at him, but he let the feeling pass and flew on.

 

 

When Vegeta arrived back at Dende's Lookout, he tossed the radar on Bulma’s desk and told her that her shoddy repair job had him in the middle of a desert canyon and yielded zero Dragon Balls, but would be great for scouting and tracking vulture eggs. Lastly, he added that she feel free to not come to him if she had any more pointless errands with which to waste his time.

Bulma huffed and shouted at him before briskly leaving to go do more tweaking on the gadget.

He didn’t tell her that the errand earned him a run-in with the Buu's nor that he'd been left inexplicably untouched.

How many times would Buu spare his life, Vegeta wondered.

 

 

How many times would he spare Vegeta’s life, Buu wondered.

The mutant flew alongside his minion.

Controlling Bow was like controlling a feral animal, Buu decided. It had been hard for Buu to restrain his spawn when they'd run into Vegeta again. It had been even harder to explain to him why they continued to ignore the little refuge in the sky. Buu told his creation that they were waiting for them to gather their strengths so that they would prove to be a greater challenge, a greater _feast._ This reasoning seemed to pacify Bow for the time being. However, Buu knew that eventually they would have to go up there. Buu wasn't certain why he still felt reluctant to even go near the Lookout. He guessed it must be another defect from his most recent transformation. On second thought, perhaps a visit to the little temple in the sky would be just what he needed to stomp out the last of those clinging traits.

But not now. For now, they would wait.

Vegeta had been up to something when they ran into him. Bow had told him he was certain of it and Buu shared the sentiment. Maybe they really were gathering their strength to take him on in some ultimate attack. If that were the case, Buu couldn't help the thrill that rose in his belly at the prospect of a real fight. He hadn't had one since before absorbing the Saiyans.

Maybe it was that Saiyan fire in him that made Buu's spirits soar at the promise of a worthy fight. Either way, he was content for the time being to wait and see what the Earthlings were planning. 

 

 

As Buu grew more excited, Bow grew restless.

Bow didn't comprehend Buu's apparent hesitation to blast the structure out of the sky. At first, Bow thought there was wisdom behind it, a clever patience that was beyond the fledgling. Yet, as the days passed and Buu continued to deflect questions about the mysterious floating temple, Bow began to suspect that there was something more to it. Something Buu was hiding from him.

While Bow had a lust for destruction, he also had a compulsive desire for the things that were forbidden to him. Buu had, on multiple occasions, made the mistake of denying him something. As Buu deterred attention away from Vegeta and the temple, Bow found himself wanting them more and more. He wanted to watch the temple burn out of the sky amidst the euphony of horrified screams of its inhabitant. And as for the pompous Saiyan, Bow not only wanted to kill him now, he wanted to break him and watch him crumble too.

While Bow was not a patient creation, he was an exceptionally clever one. And like a mischievous child, he would find a way to have what he wanted.


	8. The Midnight Meeting and a New Hope

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dende and Vegeta meet in the night.

Weeks passed.

Vegeta clung to a solution that wouldn't involve the Dragon Balls. Dende was sympathetic to his friend and for a while, did indulge him. Vegeta was convinced that with a little more time and extensive training, he would be able to attain a power great enough at least to skim that of Buu's fledgling. That way, they would stand a chance. Dende sensed the power of Buu's creation, however, and could not pretend to be very optimistic. Ever patient though he was, the Guardian worried for time.

While there was no foreseeable deadline, Dende knew that they didn't have the amount of time needed for Vegeta to make such a leap in power. The Guardian felt it. It would only be a matter of time before Buu's eye was fixed on the temple. So, he kindly suggested an alternative solution, one which would also not involve the Dragon Balls.

Vegeta was reluctant but eager to play a more vital role in the plan to save Earth than the one he was currently slotted as errand boy. He agreed to hear Dende's idea.

One warm and breezy night when everyone was asleep, they met in Vegeta's room to speak in private.

“I need you to remember, Vegeta. Think back to the day in the grove,” said Dende.

Vegeta was apprehensive, to say the least, about thinking back to the day Buu had beaten him in his new form. Thinking of the swift and decisive defeat was asking much of the proud prince but asking him to recall what had happened afterward was a different sort of request entirely. In fact, if anyone but Dende had asked this of him—not that anyone else aside from the Guardian knew-- Vegeta would retort briskly and with a finality that left no question that the topic was dead and never to be brought up again.

But this was Dende.

Vegeta inhaled sharply and bristled. He hadn't spoken or even implied about what had happened to him since damn near bawling in the Namekian's arms those weeks ago. That was another thing which Vegeta would prefer be left buried.

“Why,” he finally said, voice oddly passive.

“It's very important that you try and think back to that day, Vegeta. You will understand.”

“Wh...what? I don't understand. What's this got to do with ...” Vegeta's voice seemed to be getting quieter of its own accord as though it too was fleeing from the conversation.

Regardless of how hard Vegeta tried to avoid thinking about it, as deep down as he'd managed to bury the memories, they were all at once coming back to the surface. It was as though the mere mentioning of it was summoning it back. The dam was quickly crumbling and the long-oppressed waters were bursting through.

Dende was vanishing before his eyes.

“It's alright, Vegeta. I was there. The whole time. I was with you. I'm here now. You're not alone. I need you to remember what happened.”

Vegeta gasped as his vision suddenly clouded over. The quiet, moonlit room and Dende's intent face was replaced by a dark and gnarled wood. Vegeta was pinned to a large and course bolder by thick tentacles and looking into the eyes of-- not Dende, but Buu, only it wasn't Buu's face-- it was Kakarot's.

The creature was asking him if he remembered when they first met. Vegeta felt hot breath on his cheek. Bile rose in his stomach.

“ _You were so small then, weren't you?”_

Vegeta's fists clenched and he began to struggle with all his might. He knew what was going to happen and he couldn't let it. Not again.

He began screaming but nothing was coming out. His eyes teared and he looked up into the ceiling of thorns. There were faint specks of light and a single large hole through which he'd dropped. The sun was so bright outside but the thickness and dankness of the grove smothered them so possessively that it could have been night outside of it. Blue skies and a cool breeze could not be farther away now. Once again, Vegeta felt all hope slip away from him.

Then Buu had finished talking and all Vegeta heard was the mutant's laughter. Vegeta closed his eyes attempting to shut it out but the monster was inches from his face. After a few moments, Vegeta realized that it wasn't Buu's laughter he was hearing at all, but Kakarot's-- _really_ Kakarot's.

Vegeta opened his eyes and saw the face of the only other pure blooded Saiyan left. The eyes were black with red irises but that big smile could belong to no one else-- there was so much joy and unconditional affection in it.

And Vegeta remembered.

He realized again what he'd realized that day in the grove, what he had blocked out along with the rest of it-- Kakarot was still in there.

 

 

Vegeta opened his eyes again and saw Dende sitting across from him once more and they were in the cool and peaceful guest bedroom again. The dark grove and its gnarled trees with their twisted branches were all gone.

“Kakarot is...” Vegeta choked out. The vision left him feeling light-headed.

“Yes, Vegeta.” said Dende surely, “he's still there. He came out because of you. I believe you can bring him out again.”

“But how do I...”

Dende looked at him patiently, “I don't know. But I believe it can be done.”

Vegeta looked almost hopeful for a fleeting moment and then his head sank.

“No,” he said lowly, “I tried. I tried... calling him. Buu's hold is too strong.”

“You mustn't give up, Vegeta. Wherever Goku is, he's clearly still fighting. Why do you think Buu hasn't come up here? He has all the knowledge of Goku, Gohan, Piccolo and the boys—we have every reason to believe that he knows exactly where we are. It's Goku who’s keeping him away! While Buu certainly has a hold over Goku, I think Goku has a small but definitive hold over him as well.”

Vegeta's eyes brightened despite himself as he listened to Dende's inspired voice.

“ _He's there_ ,” said Dende excitedly, impressing this upon Vegeta with all of his will. “Goku wants to get out. He just needs help. I think you alone are the one to help him.”

Dende stared at Vegeta and waited. But as he looked, the inspiration that had reflected in the Saiyan's black eyes began to dim.

“Why me,” came his small strained voice. But even as he said it, he already knew the answer.

In his mind swam another vision, but this time it came from a different memory.

 

Beside him, Goku was panting and his gi was in shreds. Vegeta was in no better if not worse shape. Now that Buu had absorbed both their sons, including a new and more powerful Gohan, the monster had proven to be quite a handful for them. Goku lifted his weary head to Vegeta and the prince didn't have to turn to know there was a pleading look on his face.

“Don't say it, Kakarot,” the slighter Saiyan growled.

“Vegeta,” Goku panted, voice weakened, “just listen to me. We can't beat him like this. Please, we need to-”

“I know, I know! Fuse. It's not happening, Kakarot! Drop it!”

Vegeta bolted off again in the direction of Buu and Goku followed after. Vegeta got there first and so was the first to be swatted away like an incessant fly. Goku came next and received the same prompt dismissal. He hit the ground making a fresh crater next to Vegeta's.

Goku looked up at once and saw Buu hurling the beginnings of a large energy blast down to them. The Earth Saiyan reacted quickly, grabbing Vegeta's prone body and throwing them both to safety. Shielding Vegeta with his own mass, Goku covered both their heads as the blast collided behind them.

Vegeta came to, feeling the warm weight on top of him and the breath on the back of his neck. He knew it was Goku. Chunks of rock and earth fell all around them. He was not alarmed by the proximity of his fellow Saiyan. Nearness and touch were inevitable elements in their routine spars and both were long accustomed to each other’s closeness.

Vegeta nudged the weight on top of him lightly with an elbow and it was lifted.

“Are you alright?” Goku asked, eyeing Vegeta closely, hands reaching out, as if searching for injuries.

“Fine, Kakarot. Take care of yourself.”

Goku sighed and dropped his hands. He seemed to be biting back something. In place of it, he said sorely, “If you won't fuse with me, we need to fight him at the same time. Don't charge him on your own like that!”

“Well, the same goes for you, Kakarot,” said Vegeta, patting himself off, “I'll not have you snatching all the glory for yourself this time.”

Goku gave him a weathered look. The Earth Saiyan had known him too long to expect anything else.

 

There was a frenzy of explosions in the air-- like fireworks, none lasting longer than a split second at a time. A flash here and there and great rock formations crumbled all around. The sound of deep thunder filled the skies, but there was no storm. A loud crack resounded, then a flash, and once again two Saiyans fell 100 feet to the rocks below.

 

Goku crawled on his elbows toward his fallen comrade.

“Vegeta,” he grunted, dragging his own heavy body over the rocks to be nearer to the other Saiyan. When he got close enough, he saw that Vegeta was conscious. His eyes were half lidded and he wore a grimace. His fingers twitched idly.

The prince coughed up some dust and probably blood. Although Vegeta didn't want the other Saiyan to see him looking so utterly beaten, he couldn't hide that he was in a great deal of pain.

“If you're going to ask me to fuse again,” he said slowly and through painful breaths. “You can save it, Kakarot. I'd rather die again than spend life trapped in a body with a low-level clown like--”

“No, Vegeta,” Goku interjected gently, “I'm not going to ask you to fuse again. Besides,” he watched Vegeta struggle to pick himself up only to collapsed back into the rubble. “I think I'd miss this too much.” He almost laughed then.

Vegeta wouldn't admit it but he too feared he would miss their time together. What would it mean to be forever fused to Kakarot? Would they never again be able to talk to each other this way as separate beings? Or would it be the opposite and Vegeta would never be rid of the infuriating third class? He wasn't sure which outcome he feared most.

He released a roar of either frustration or annoyance. Although he didn't look over to the man he'd spent most of his adult life loathing and admiring, he knew Goku was watching him with that kind, almost sad smile.

“I just wanted to tell you, it's good to see you again.”

And Vegeta did look at him then. He wanted to sneer and scoff and belittle the emotional Saiyan, but he couldn't. There was no trick behind the other's eyes, no motive in his voice. Kakarot was then and always had been completely sincere. It just wasn't often that Vegeta allowed himself to see it.

The prince sighed.

“It's good to see you too, Kakarot,” he said.

And Goku smiled.

Their shared moment wouldn't last. Buu soon charged them again. This time, however, the last two Saiyans put up a joined fight the mutant didn't think them capable of after the beating he'd laid into them. The Saiyans surprised him with their tenacity and their endless well of power, from which never seemed to deplete no matter how much they drew from it.

In any other circumstances, two against one would've been unfair odds, which neither warrior would abide, but Buu had a whole hoard of powerful fighters in his arsenal and all their abilities at his disposal. So today, all fairness went out the window.

Things were beginning to turn around, Vegeta thought, allowing himself a moment of pride. But like so many times before, his pride would precede his suffering.

Vegeta began to laugh as he looked onto a scuffed and infuriated Buu.

“Look at him,” he said to Goku who was not laughing. “He thought he could take on the two most powerful warriors in the universe! What a fool! Three half breeds and a Namek is not match for the power of a full-blooded Saiyan!” he laughed again and Goku frowned at him. His boast was ill-received, considering they were just as beat up if not more so than Buu.

Buu seethed but nonetheless appeared to be listening to Vegeta's chiding. The prince wouldn't know until it was too late what was stirring behind the mutant’s calculating eyes.

An appendage was missing from Buu. The end of his long antenna. It had been blown off of him in the last scuffle and Buu looked so shredded anyway that no one noticed.

The piece was currently making its way up to the unsuspecting Saiyans, who were both distracted by the prince's monologue.

One was clearly more powerful than the other, but Buu decided, as he looked into that arrogant face of the prince, that Goku could wait. 

Goku waited for Vegeta's laughter to settle before turning to Buu. “Our friends aren't dead, I can sense them in you. Give them back to us. This doesn't have to go on.”

What happened next was mostly a blur to Vegeta. What looked like a smirk flashed across Buu's lips and that was the last the prince would see of Buu in that form.

A strong arm forced Vegeta aside and when the prince looked at what had pushed him, he caught a glimpse of the horror-stricken face of Goku before an ominous shadow fell over it and a great pink, amorphous blob swallowed the other Saiyan whole.

It was the same trick that the boys had fallen for before. Vegeta had been so confident in their upper hand that he'd dropped his guard and now it was Buu who was laughing. What followed was the single most horrible experience of the prince's life and now a part of him almost felt that he deserved it.

 

 

“He sacrificed himself for me.” Vegeta said aloud to no one in particular. “He pushed me out of the way. Why would he do that?”

Dende thought a moment.

“I believe if you think about it, you'll realize that Goku would do many things for you.”

Vegeta turned to Dende as if just noticing he was there.

“The relationship you had with Goku was a fragile one,” the Guardian went on in his soothing way. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Vegeta shook his head and Dende knew not to press the subject.

“Think it over,” Dende said, standing up. “The Dragon Balls are not fool-proof. I think that in the end, your connection with Goku will prove to be the key to stopping Buu. I'll let you rest.”

Dende left Vegeta to the calm of his bedroom. The moon was still high in the starry night sky and Vegeta looked at it through his large and open window.

 _Kakarot_ , the name echoed in his mind.

If this new plan meant that Vegeta would have to face Buu again, he wasn't sure that the small prospect of success was worth the risk. The very idea sent icy needles through his spine.

As much as he detested the thought of relying so heavily on the Dragon Balls, he felt a physical repulsion to the idea of having to face Buu, let alone seeking him out and confronting him.

He grew weary as he debated with himself. Soon, the thought was distant. He fell into an anxious sleep.


	9. And Dust Rained From the Sky (Part 1 of 3)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Dragon Radar is fixed and the remaining Earthlings are ready to retrieve the Dragon Balls. But Vegeta isn't sure that he wants to wish Goku out. Will he opt to help find the Dragon Balls or will he choose Dende's plan to use his relationship with Goku to coax him out. He'd better decide quickly, Buu and his fledgling have their sights set on the Lookout.

 

Another week went by.

Vegeta and Dende didn't meet again to discuss the alternative plan. Vegeta was certain no one else knew about it; Dende wouldn't have told anyone and Vegeta sure as Other World hadn't said anything. For the most part, the Saiyan took to avoiding the Guardian from fear that the manipulative mystic would try and coax more horrific memories out of him without his consent. He didn't seek out Dende's calming presence anymore either. He scarcely even made eye contact with the Namekian when they _did_ happen to find themselves in the same space.

Vegeta receded back into his routine of keeping to himself and even ran the occasional odd errand for Bulma when he couldn't ignore her any longer.

However, despite how successfully Vegeta avoided the Namekian, memories seemed to resurface all on their own. Sometimes it was The Grove: He saw gnarled trees and snake-like forms slithering through the reeves before deep red eyes blotted everything out; Sometimes it was the final fight he saw and his own pride that defeated him on that terrible day; Mostly, it was Kakarot in his visions. It wasn't the last moments before he was absorbed that he remembered most but the many moments they shared before that, which had seemed so inconsequential at the time.

It was all so familiar, Vegeta thought. After some odd hours of going at each other with all of their stamina, one Saiyan would end up pinned by the other or they would be entangled somehow, totally limp with exhausted. They would look at each other then. Neither would say anything.

Their mouths would hang open, they were panting so hard, and the warmth of the other Saiyans' breath would cover and embrace the others' face. Side by side in a large crater or chest to chest against a rock wall, they would look at each other, seeing more than words could tell in the other's eyes.

And that was it.

They would get up and go home or go inside to eat. However the spars ended, neither spoke of what they found in the others' eyes.

 

 

Vegeta sighed and his head fell against the wall.

The sound of Bulma's brisk and purposeful footsteps were quickly nearing his training room from down the hall.

He steeled himself for the chore to come.

“Alright, I figured out what was wrong, Vegeta. It was a small stitch but it made quite a difference. The marker should be right on the money now, or at least close, We can now hunt down those Dragon Balls. You ready to help save the world?”

Vegeta was so surprised, he didn't have an available response.

He'd been occasionally sent out to find more Dragon Balls but, like the first time, hadn't had much luck. The Dragon Radar had been acting funny since they'd retrieved it from Capsule Corps.. It must have gotten jarred at some point because its readings had since yielded no Dragon Balls on or near the marker. Bulma blamed Vegeta's lack of care with the tool and said he'd always resented their need for it and must have purposefully dropped it at some point, knocking something vital out of place.

Vegeta, in truth, didn't mind all that much that the radar was incapacitated. He spent his time training away in the depths of the temple. His body grew stronger as well as his thirst for redemption. He thrived on the thought of the day when he would face Buu again and beat him.

Just when all distractions of the Dragon Ball variety had been swept from his mind, here was Bulma once more standing before him with a fully functional Dragon Radar, reminding him of how he stood alone, overshadowed by the towering hopes of his allies.

He eyed the insulting gadget.

“Run your own errands. I'm training.” He turned swiftly, whipping his towel over his shoulder.

“We need your speed, Vegeta.” Bulma's voice sounded drawn out and weary, as though she’d expected to have to fight the Saiyan on this.

Vegeta ignored her and returned to the command console in the center of the room.

“We're going to wish Goku out,” she said.

Vegeta froze.

_Kakarot._

That smiling face flashed in his mind and more memories stirred, leaving a hollow feeling in his gut. He clenched his fists and shoved the memories away.

Quietly, he weighed the possibilities.

On the one hand, the tyranny would end. There would be no more Almighty Buu. The ancient creature would be beatable again. But on the other hand, if Kakarot returned, so would Earth's savior. All Vegeta's efforts will have been in vein. Any chance for Vegeta, “the hero,” to emerge would be brushed aside.  As hard as it was for Vegeta to stomach the idea of Kakarot once again swooping in in the nick of time and saving the day, there was something else that the prince dreaded even more. It was the idea of living with the man who had so completely and effortlessly shattered his pride and everything he knew. Sure, Dende claimed that Kakarot was not solely to blame for what had happened in The Grove that day, but Vegeta couldn't even say the Saiyan's name now without seeing flashes of his full naked form over him, holding him down and laughing as he tormented him in the most vile way.

Vegeta couldn't do it. He couldn't erase all that had happened. Everything in The Grove...

There was no way. It happened. And if he wished Kakarot back now, he would have to look in the man's eyes every day and see it, everything the bastard had done to him…

Vegeta eyes began to sting. He blinked it away.

He could never face the man the same again. Not until he had his retribution. Vegeta needed to be the one to kill Buu and it had to be the _same_ Buu from that day. If it meant killing Kakarot too then…

“I'm not finding anymore Dragon Balls,” Vegeta said without turning to the blue-haired woman. “I'm going to kill Buu.”

Bulma stared into Vegeta's tense and rigid back and could almost feel the waves of intensity like electricity coming off of him.

“Vegeta--” she stammered.

“Get out.”

 

 

Bow seemed to live on a diet of convicts and the clinically insane. Maximum security prisons had proven to be a real treat for the fledgling when they found them. Buu noted the particular tastes of Bow with some concern but nonetheless, indulging the other mutant's twisted appetite seemed to keep the volatile creature happy.

Something in Buu's belly tightened suddenly and his throat went bone-dry. Moments later, he could just make out a faint form inching along some miles ahead of them.

The figure was crossing their path. He was in his usual plain navy blue training suit and white boots. Buu strained his focus further and could see the determination on the man's face. He was out again on one of his inexplicable errands. Buu and Bow would see him about from time to time. Buu would usually have to defuse his comrade's dog-like urge to intercept him and his own less violent urge to follow him. The Saiyan sometimes carried bags of supplies or odd mechanical devices which Buu didn't pretend to know anything about. Wondering about it would require Buu to fix an uncomfortable amount of attention on the Saiyan, and he tended to try not to let his mind linger in that area for too long. For the most part, Buu didn't worry too much about what Vegeta was up to. Neither party did much to acknowledge the other. Normally there would be a brief glance passed when they did directly cross one another, but nothing more.

Buu continued to stare after Vegeta's distant, passing form. He was sure they were too far for him to see them but soon he would sense them.

And right on time, as if summoned by Buu's thoughts, Vegeta turned and they were looking right at each other. With Buu's keen vision he could see Vegeta's face perfectly, but the Saiyan would not be able to see him- although it looked like Vegeta was staring straight at him. Buu was almost stunned by the look in the Saiyan's eyes. It was feral and naked and wild. There was fury and violence and somehow Buu knew that Vegeta was not really looking at him, and perhaps hadn't sensed them at all. Something else had him riled up. Something had happened that had deeply shaken the Saiyan and Buu suspected Vegeta was so wrapped up in it that he hadn't been monitoring his surroundings. The Saiyan turned away again and kept flying, and Buu went back to looking ahead.

Why had Vegeta looked so rattled? He pushed the thought away.

“Why do we leave him?” Bow finally asked, breaking the heavy silence. They'd crossed paths with the Saiyan on several occasions in the past weeks and each time, neither made any move to interfere with the other.

“He is not a threat to us.” Buu said simply, staring ahead.

“Then we can kill him.”

Buu didn't stop but slowed slightly, a fire suddenly blazing in his gut.

Bow didn't fail to catch the sharp change in his maker's demeanor. Something stirred in Buu's eyes in that instant that made Bow choose his next words carefully.

“It's just,” he began diplomatically. “If you have a soft spot for the Saiyan, it might be in our best interest to have him out of the picture. I can help with that. It's what you made me for, isn't it?”

“You're correct. I needed a second mind,” said Buu after giving it some thought. “I made you to help me remain steady if I begin to waver. But it isn't weakness that keeps me from killing the Saiyan, Bow. I mean to keep him alive.”

“Why is that?” Bow asked, carefully masking his doubt.

“He may prove to be a challenge later,” Buu simply replied. “Haven't you been saying you were bored?”

This answer seemed to pacify Bow for the time being and they continued flying for a while without mishap.

“So, Vegeta is the one who will be a challenge for us...” said Bow, mulling it over aloud. “But then, why leave the others? Surely they cannot begin to pose a challenge?”

Buu turned to his comrade to answer but nothing came out. There was really no reason to let the other's on Dende's Lookout live. He knew it and he felt that he'd somehow been caught.

It was irrational. There was no point to them. He knew that destroying The Lookout would give his fledgling greater satisfaction than any he'd felt in some time, it would stave off his thirst for the Saiyan at least for a little longer. Even a large part of himself longed to see it burn along with all of its inhabitants. But there was still something in him that held him at bay, some foggy spot in his mind that made him want to avoid the place entirely. He knew what it was and perhaps he had been ignoring that too. But he couldn't keep ignoring it.

They had stopped flying at some point and Buu looked up over into the face of his creation. There was such wild and animalistic anticipation there. He was a dog salivating at the imminence of steak.

Buu realized that he had been allowing himself to be steered by the stowaway in his mind. The Saiyan had been quietly influencing him for some time now. He hadn't destroyed all vestiges of Goku as he had thought when he'd hunted down and killed his closest associates. Well he would soon. He would not adhere to Goku any longer. The Lookout had to be destroyed.

 


	10. And Dust Rained From the Sky (Part 2 of 3)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vegeta wants nothing to do with the plan to seek and use the Dragon balls and abandons The Lookout in a rage. 
> 
> But while he is away, the unprotected Earthlings receive two unexpected visitors.

 

Vegeta flew and flew until the Lookout was just a memory behind him. He couldn't have his pride and honor belittled any longer. He had to leave.

Once again he was his only ally; He stood alone against the doubts and ridicule of everyone he knew. He wasn't at all new to this role. The Lookout was filled with fools who believed in wishing their problems away. He believed in a wish once. He believed in immortality. It was a fool's wish-- the easy way out for one too weak to work for their own victory. He knew now that all he needed to believe in, all he needed to trust, was his own strength. He survived off of his own strength. It was what had gotten him this far. It was what had gotten him up and out of The Grove that day...

And it was his own strength alone that would kill Buu once and for all. The others just didn't realize it yet.

Vegeta didn't know where he would fly but he had so much hate and anger burning in his veins that he knew he had to get away from the Lookout and all of its by-standing inhabitants, doing nothing but taking up space, contributing nothing but one more useless body for him to have to refrain from blowing to shreds. He knew that if he stayed in that temple any longer and tried to talk it out with Bulma or work it off in the gravitation chamber, the whole sacred structure would burst from the rivulets of his fury.

She just didn't get it.

Wish Kakarot out? No fucking way.

He passed over a jagged mountain range and decided to do some landscaping.

 

 

Bulma sighed to herself as she leaned against the craft. The radar in her hand was humming away. There was no sense in waiting any longer. She had never been a patient woman but at least she'd tried to be a sensible one. She had hoped Vegeta would be more enthusiastic about having such a vital role in the plan or at least cooperative. After all, they were trying to save the world. Didn't he see that? No, he was too caught up in his own pride and an old and tired idea that he somehow still needed to prove himself. _To whom_? She thought incredulously. As hard as she tried, she really couldn't understand him sometimes. She often chalked it up to him being selfish. Couldn't he see that they were all working for the same thing?

She climbed in the craft and slammed the door behind her.

As Bulma started the engine, she couldn't help reflecting on another Saiyan, one who was anything but selfish. Goku would have helped out, she asserted. Goku would have been here supporting them every step of the way.

But another second hadn't passed before another thought came to her.

 _No_ , said the thought. _Goku would be away training too_. The second it came to her, she knew it to be true.

She sighed, shaking her head.  _Saiyans._

The craft lifted from the temple courtyard, making the few surrounding palm trees and bushes tremble and whip wildly.

 

 

Vegeta stood, panting slightly, in a cloud of dust. He'd spent a good amount of his energy blasting a sizable crater into the canyon and was feeling decidedly more at ease as a result. It was good that he'd gotten outside. Here, he didn't have to worry about accidentally blowing a new sunroof into the temple or about killing one of the many wandering humans they'd collected over the weeks. Dende was too soft, just letting anyone off the street come in. The ancient temple was like a public zoo now.

Vegeta tilted his head back and closed his eyes. He took a deep breath in. The air was still thick with dust and stung his nostrils. At some point over the years, he'd begun to associate the dusty scent with battle and it still made him tingle with anticipation.

He did feel a lot better. Maybe being cooped up in the dark heart of the temple had made him a bit crazy. Maybe all he'd needed was some fresh air. He thought back on his last encounter with Bulma and perhaps he'd been a bit harsh. The idea of apologizing to the woman was completely foreign and would never even occur to the prince. However, he did feel a slight dip in his stomach at the thought of how they'd left it.

Nonetheless, next time they saw each other, it would be back to normal. Nothing needed to be said. It was simply the way things were between them. It was a constant that Vegeta took comfort in. He let it be.

He heard a faint buzzing overhead.

He looked and saw in the distance the purple hover craft he'd long associated with Bulma Briefs. He watched it hum along sluggishly, imagining the woman inside. Again, he felt the dip in his stomach. He let it subside.

She was going to fetch the Dragon Balls herself.

 _Good_ , Vegeta thought. Save him the time and annoyance. It was about time she did her own grunt work.

The craft got smaller as it glided further away.

Vegeta turned back to the canyons around him. It was no more distinguishable than any other canyon he'd seen on the planet. No matter how many of these things they'd managed to destroy in their many battles over the years, more and more always seemed to pop up. Vegeta had never really thought about it until then, but it was kind of strange.

Vegeta began pacing, throwing swift jabs and kicks into the air, occasionally experimenting with fluid combos. His blood was pumping and his body was fully warmed up. He wanted to be in the zone, fully immersed in the flow of his movement, physically and mentally merged as one. That was when he was most free, away from the torment and rage of his thoughts. But his rebellious mind wandered.

_The aircraft._

He didn't see it anymore but he knew it couldn't have traveled far. There was a wisdom in sending Vegeta off on those benal errands, even though he would never admit it to Bulma. It was true, he could handle running into Buu and getting another fierce beating that would confine him to bedrest for a week. He was a Saiyan, it was what they were made for. But Bulma was human like the others-- weak, frail, completely breakable. The idea of being sent on a scavenger hunt was abhorrent to the prince but the admitted risk involved did make him well-suited for the job.

But was there really a risk? Vegeta had not run into trouble with the Buu's unless he went out and sought it, even when they directly crossed each other's paths, there was little more exchanged than words or, more recently, just glances. If Buu wanted violence with him, he could have easily initiated it weeks ago, Vegeta decided. Bulma was fine. There was no danger.

But then why did Vegeta have this deep pulling feeling in his gut?

He turned again in the direction into which Bulma's aircraft had vanished and felt a great and dark power. He knew the power well. He felt it at all times. Although the great power was split into two bodies, Vegeta felt it as one.

As he continued to stare into the distance, eyes unblinking as if in a trance, two figures became clearer. They were flying at such a rate that nearly the same instant they appeared, they were gone again, headed in the direction from which the craft had come, in the direction of the Lookout.

Vegeta almost stumbled when the delayed sound of their speed hit him.

_Could they be going..._

Vegeta watched and waited as though hoping they might reappear, ease his worries.

_They wouldn't be going..._

He turned back in the direction of the aircraft. The sky was clear and secretive. Did they cross paths? He didn't know. It certainly looked that way. Vegeta's mind raced as his body was simultaneously pulled in the opposing directions of Bulma's craft and Dende's Lookout.

Cursing himself, he wasted no more time, and set off in the direction in which he'd seen the craft vanish, and from where the Buu's had come.

 

 

Vegeta didn't have to travel very far before he spotted the little purple glider grounded in a valley of rocks. He immediately scanned the area for Bulma. He didn't see her.

He descended next to the glider and immediately felt the hollowness of the area. Although the craft was whole, and there was no sign of a crash-landing, Vegeta sensed something wasn't right. He didn't have to call for Bulma to know that she wasn't there, and she wasn't off looking for Dragon Balls either.

There, in the rubble, not far from the craft, Vegeta saw the gleaming metal casing and leather strap of the Dragon Radar. He picked up the discarded gadget and the hollowness he'd felt in the pit of his stomach deepened and swallowed him whole. The situation was settling in.

They had sat dormant for far too long. Something terrible was bound to happen and they'd all just waited for it. Now it had come. He didn't know what it was but he knew it was happening now and that there was no more time to speculate plans.

 

 

The sun beat down on the vast courtyard of the Lookout. Children were chasing each other, making games of running around the trees. A group of sunbathers lounged by the edge, looking out onto a misty view of the Earth, miles below. Mr. and Mrs. Briefs were chatting in the kitchen with Chichi while Dende prepared them a snack. Mr. Popo was busy watering his garden on the patio and reinforcing some daffodils that the children had kicked up, when suddenly everything went still.

Mr. Popo couldn't hear the pattering footsteps of the children playing behind him. They had suddenly gone silent. The people lounging on the edge of The Lookout had quieted their youthful chatting. Mr. Popo set down the pot. As his heart began to pound in his chest, Mr. Popo slowly turned to see what had caused the sudden stillness.

Mr. And Mrs. Briefs stopped laughing when they heard a shrill scream coming from outside. It sounded like a child. Chichi ran from the kitchen at once. At first, when she stepped out into the blinding light, she didn't notice anything strange, her eyes darting around. Then she realized everything was gravely still. Where had the scream come from? She ran around to the East side of the building where she saw Mr. Popo was standing still as a statue over his forgotten daffodils. He and the also frozen children where all staring up into the sky. Chichi looked up as well and saw there, blocking out the sun with their unmistakable forms, were Buu and his apprentice. That wasn't all. Chichi noticed a figure struggling in the arm of the smaller one. He released the body and it landed hard on the ground.

The blue-haired woman gathered herself, seething up at her captives. Chichi could see that she was shaking with fear.

"I don't know how you're still alive, but don't worry. That will soon be corrected," Buu said, eyeing Bulma like an insect.

The children saw Chichi as she approached and they all ran to her side, drawing Buu's attention.

Chichi held the children close and was about to instruct them to go inside, but was distracted by a sound that came from Buu himself. She looked up.

The tyrant's form had drifted out from in front of the sun and Chichi had a clearer view of him. He was not the Buu she had been expecting. The excretion of his fledgling had indeed taken a toll on Buu's form. The transformation had left Buu with more of Goku's features than anything else and the Saiyan's physical traits were more pronounced than ever.

Chichi looked in the face of Buu but saw the man she'd married and loved for over two decades. Her eyes began to tear.

"You're supposed to be dead," he said gravely.

Behind her, Dende rushed out with Mr. and Mrs. Briefs in tow to see what was causing the commotion and Buu saw them as well.

"You too!" Buu burst when he saw the Briefs, and almost laughed.

He was silent as he seemed to think of something.

"Oh, Vegeta," he hummed at last. "Such a hero."

He turned to his fledgling who seemed to give him an approving look, then back to the people of the Lookout.

"No matter," Buu sighed, and his voice went low. "You'll all die now."

 

 

Vegeta flew as fast as he could but he still felt like he was dragging a mountain. His mind raced and although he didn't have a single complete thought, they were all similarly themed: He needed to get back to the Lookout. He needed to stop whatever was happening.

He felt the dark power growing greater in his chest and he didn't know what it meant.

He was closing in on The Lookout now. He could just see the long narrow post that ran up to the bottom of the temple. He got closer and began to ascend. The post vanished into a thick layer of clouds and Vegeta couldn't see the top where the striped bottom of the temple would balloon out. He rose and rose, but he still hadn't cleared the mist, in fact it seemed to only get thicker. Vegeta was sure he would have passed Koren's place by now. He brought his arm up over his eyes as he hit a particularly thick patch. His nose began to sting.

As his eyes burned and he coughed painfully, it occurred to Vegeta that it wasn't a great grey cloud he was in.

He stopped ascending.

He looked around. The air was still thick with dust but it slowly began to clear. He felt tiny particles of what he now recognized as rock hitting his arms and face like hail. Beside him, the long post became visible and his eyes followed it up until it came to a jagged tip.

The truth of the situation took a moment to strike Vegeta but when it did, it was like a knife in his gut.

Vegeta screamed until he had no more air in his lungs. There was nothing there. Rubble was still falling from the space that once held the gravity-defying temple, but there was nothing more. No living thing remained.

Tears streamed from his eyes and dust clung to them, making dirty streaks down his face.

After minutes, his scream died out and he was left panting with a raw feeling in his throat. They were gone. Dende, Bulma, Krillin, Yamcha, everyone. All gone. The hollowness that had settled in Vegeta's gut was surmounted only by the dark, imposing power he still felt. Buu was still there.

The dust had settled slightly, and soon Vegeta was able to just make out across the clearing the outlines of two forms. They were motionless. More dust cleared and Vegeta was able to make out the pink skin and faces of the Buu's.

They were watching him.


	11. And Dust Rained From the Sky (Part 3 of 3)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vegeta faces off with Bow in battle, but emotions and fatigue weigh him down. As the final Z fighter, will he be able to overcome the Buus in a battle of strength, or will he put aside his pride and go along with Dende's alternative plan?

Dust was still falling as Vegeta stared across the void of the former Lookout to where Buu and Bow hovered motionless.

There was a sharpness in Buu's eyes that cut through the dust and the distance and found Vegeta, giving the prince a prickling feeling up his spine. They held each other's gaze in a heavy silence. When Buu turned his head toward his comrade, his eyes stayed on Vegeta's and did not even flutter. It was subtle but Vegeta saw Buu give a slight nod. Bow must have taken some meaning from the nod because a grin spread across his boyish face.

Vegeta's heart, which was already harried, began to build speed.

Bow was moving toward Vegeta.

Buu watched, a malevolent satisfaction in his eyes at what he'd set in motion.

Vegeta barely had time to prepare himself. He felt as though he'd been watching the whole scene unfold as an outside party up to that point. And now Bow was rushing him and he hadn't thought to dodge or move or brace himself until he was sailing downward, having just taken a hard knee to the stomach.

The sadness and pain and aloneness Vegeta felt were all bombarding him at once.  The overwhelming emotions settled in his chest like a boulder, holding him down in the dirt and rubble he'd landed in. They were dead and he as good as killed them. The fact wasn't going anywhere. He knew somehow that this truth wouldn't be buried away like the rest. It was going to stay right where it was, open and raw like an infected wound. This loss would never heal. And he couldn't cover it as he'd done so many times before, letting the truth live hidden away within himself, allowing it to to run through his veins and dilute until it became him. It would be different this time, he knew. There just wasn't enough room in the deep dark grave yard of his mind to bury yet another horrible monster. It would always be there on the surface, staring at him. He would always feel the fresh sorrow of it as though it had just happened.

And as he lay there, he felt the pain swell and fill him until he felt like he would burst. Instead, it only spilled over.

Tears pooled in his eyes.

No, he thought, no. _They_ killed them.

He saw Buu and his horrible creation overhead, descending down to him.

Vegeta lifted himself out of the rocks. The weight that had held him down did not wane but he found he was able to bare it.

He looked up and saw the second Buu smiling down at him like a psychotic child.

The sorrow that filled Vegeta began to somehow fade away, making room for the great rage that was now settling in. Vegeta's blood began to boil and his body became a furnace. A fire in his very core roared for vengeance.

All he could see was the mocking grin of Buu's fledgling and the glint in the bastard's eyes. In Vegeta's mind, he could see the horrified faces of the people of The Lookout all being consumed in flame. Vegeta felt the fire consume him too.

In a flash, the Saiyan was in the air and soaring up to meet the mutant.

There was little planning and it showed.

Bow effortlessly dodged Vegeta's barrage of attacks. Lightning quick punches and kicks met emptiness where Bow, still grinning, evaded the enraged prince. Vegeta grew more emphatic in his attacks as Bow matched his speed at every surge of energy. The Saiyan just couldn't connect. He poured more power into his attacks. Bow must have gotten bored with the little dance and suddenly caught one of the prince's fists in his hand.

The movement was so effortless, it caught Vegeta off guard. He stared a moment and the new Buu stared back. Suddenly, the alien's cocked smile widened, revealing his viper's fangs and Vegeta felt the grip on his fist tighten.

The next moment, Vegeta saw nothing but flashes behind his tightly shut eye lids. Pain shot through him from his arm captured in Bow's grasp. Bow was crushing the prince's fist in his hand.

Vegeta screamed. It was so fast, he didn't think to try and pull his hand away or perhaps he didn't try from fear of incurring more pain. Then it was over and a blunt force thrust him backward and he was soaring away like a discarded doll. Bow's kick had cast him a kilometer through the air. Vegeta was just able to catch himself, holding his chest with his good hand. His ribs ached from where the mutant had kicked him.

It occurred to Vegeta that he wasn't at full capacity and that perhaps now was not the best time to confront the Buus. This scrap of wisdom that crept into Vegeta's mind was quickly disposed of as Bow came cutting through the distance straight at him with a half-mad look of childish delight on his face.

Vegeta was just able to dodge the deadly fists that began to swarm him as the distance closed between them. He blocked his head and mid section as best he could from the ones that connected. He saw through the shield of his arms the horrible delight on the youthful mutant's face and knew Bow was just toying with the Saiyan.

Vegeta had been throwing a great deal of his energy into training that morning, and earlier that afternoon he'd worked off a lot of stress blowing away a local canyon. Were he at full capacity, he would fair better, he knew. But as it was, he was not doing well. He would need to do something drastic and fast, he was quickly draining what was left of his energy. He felt however, he might still have enough left to finish the weaker of the Buus. He had to. After that, at least there would be one down.

“What's wrong, Vegeta,” Buu's fledgling asked in his low growl, never ceasing his attacks, “I'd hoped you would be more of a challenge for me. Surely the Prince of Saiyan's has more fight in him?”

Right you are, Vegeta thought.

He took the opportunity to surprise the mutant. Both hands shot out between them and Vegeta released the blast he'd been quietly building beneath his guard.

There was a flash and Bow was swallowed in smoke. Vegeta fired another and another and decided he wouldn't stop until he saw the creature's tattered shreds evaporating into the wind.

The sky was ablaze with Vegeta's unbridled fury. He could see nothing and he took it as a good sign. Never underestimate a Saiyan, he thought. When you think they're down, they've always got more fight in them.

Vegeta was panting and sweating. He let his energy rest. The smoke dissipated and there was nothing more of Bow to behold. Vegeta didn't know he had that left in him. Sometimes, he really surprised himself.

It was as he'd expected. The spawn of Buu was no great challenge. With his intensive training regimen, even in his weakened state, he'd been able to surpass the fledgling. It was as if an enormous weight was lifted off of him. Surely now, Buu could not be so difficult.

As Vegeta began looking around for the creator of his defeated opponent, he began to notice how the wind carried the dust in the air. Particles of the temple still clinging to the atmosphere, he thought with an ache in his chest. But the particles did not follow the wind or even settle. Instead, they began to swarm around him. The specks didn't touch him but formed a barrier so encompassing that everywhere Vegeta looked were particles of matter. Soon, they began fusing together in what appeared to be a large pink sphere forming around him.

Vegeta threw blast after blast at the cascading wall engulfing him, but each blast seemed weaker and less effective than the last. He 'd used up so much energy in his last attack, thinking it would finish the mutant, there wasn't much left to defend himself. He panted and screamed and kicked and punched but his efforts were too weakened and Bow, too swift.

The younger of the Buus had caught him.

Vegeta didn't have time to plan or shout or even fear that he was about to be absorbed. Vaguely, as the waxy skin pooled together, blotting out the last of the light, Vegeta wondered if this was the last thing his fellows saw before they became apart of Buu.

Then the walls of his waxy cage began to illuminate all around him. Every surface was glowing so brightly that Vegeta feared he would be blinded. Then came the blast.

Fully engulfed in the impermeable sphere of the alien flesh, Vegeta could do nothing but take the onslaught of Bow's full and concentrated energy, which was much greater than Vegeta had imagined. The light and energy were well contained by Bow's spherical shell but it did little to muffle the horrific, cracking screams of the Saiyan trapped within.

The brutality dragged on, hidden from sight.

Some minutes into it, Buu had landed on the ground below the scene. His arms were folded over his chest as he looked with detached interest onto the spectacle above.

After some time, the screaming did stop, and the shining pink sphere blossomed open, revealing the limp body of the Saiyan within.

Lifelessly, Vegeta fell from the receding bubble and crashed into the rocky ground below.

When thought eventually returned to Vegeta, he wondered if he was dead. Although dead Vegeta wasn't, he felt nothing. His fingers twitched idly of there own accord. He knew no pain like what he'd suffered in that mutant's cruel embrace. He thought maybe his nerves were now shocked to numbness.

Unfortunately, as Vegeta's consciousness slowly returned, so too did the feeling in his body. When it did, his whole form wretched and he couldn't hold in the sharp cry that was wrung from his throat. All the pain and distress from the horrendous torment his body had endured returned to him, and of all the things that struck him the most, a warm moisture in his eyes shocked Vegeta to stillness. The warmth pooled for a moment, caught in his lashes, then streamed down, tickling his ear.

Vegeta let out a choked sound that seemed to have been waiting in his throat to be released.

Some distance above, Buu's fledgling, in all his glory, was shouting something down at him. Taunting him, beckoning him back up to play.

Distantly, he noted that Bow hadn't absorbed him.

This creation of Buu, that was some mixture of all Buu's collected warriors--  save Kakarot-- was not interested in absorbing Vegeta. Instead, he seemed to revel in letting him exist in torment.

All at once, Vegeta realized that he couldn't beat them. Dende was right. There wasn't enough time. He couldn't win-- not with another month of training, not with another year.

Vegeta lay there looking up at the sky. He saw that dust was still falling from where the temple once stood and the emptiness that now filled it. He could see all the people again. How frightened they must have been. How they probably thought they were protected. Some of them were probably waiting for him to come out and defend them. He wasn't there.

He could see Dende. The young Namekian they'd saved from that planet ravaged by Frieza and Kakarot, who had, somewhere along the way, grown into the wise Guardian of Earth. Oh, how Vegeta wasted the past weeks avoiding the young man when he could have been talking to him, learning from him. Simply sharing the same space with the Namekian had an overwhelming calming effect that never failed to ease whatever burdened the prince. Instead, Vegeta had spent those weeks bitterly avoiding him, shutting him out along with the truth in the Namekian's words.

In his mind he could still hear Dende's calm but assertive voice.

 _Vegeta, you know what you have to do_.

Vegeta inhaled deeply and his eyes drifted shut. He gave himself a moment before lifting his aching body out of the rocks and to his feet. He didn't have to look for long before his eyes locked onto Buu who was also grounded about 50 yards away, content to watch the scene unfold from the sidelines.

Vegeta began walking toward him, his battered body propelled forward only by the enduring strength of his will.

A blast from above sailed down and landed a few feet ahead of the Saiyan, as though Bow had been expecting Vegeta to be moving faster.

 

 

Vegeta's deep blue sleeveless top and matching pants where so shredded they were falling off of him. Buu studied the steadily advancing form with some interest despite himself.

With every shaky, jerking step he took toward Buu, Vegeta winced and sucked in air through his teeth.

Buu was transfixed on the sight, unsure of the prince's plan. Vegeta was not powering up for an attack though he might have had enough strength to. He looked to Buu like he was completely oblivious of the grave danger into which he was directly walking. He might have been walking toward his death but he didn't hesitate nor even appear aware of the threat. There was something mesmerizing about it and Buu was so bemused by it that he made no move to back away or strike the Saiyan down.

Vegeta clutched his arm which seemed to be paining him as he continued to trudge on across the plain toward Buu. He ignored the other mutant now as if he were not an imminent threat or even there at all.

Bow must have taken offense. Another shot, presumably only intended to get Vegeta's attention, landed a few yards to the right of the Saiyan. It was not close enough to directly hit him but close enough to get him with some of the blast and knock his weakened form over.

Once again, Vegeta pulled from his storage of will and lifted his body up. He crawled out of the crater caused by the blast and continued on toward Buu as though the other mutant hadn't interfered at all.

Buu could not turn away from the sight.

Vegeta was within ten yards of Buu now and kept advancing as though pulled by some invisible force. He stumbled and nearly fell but recovered and kept going.

the entire top portion of his suit was gone now. His knees and muscled thighs showed through large tears in his pants. Oddly, his Saiyan white boots and gloves were immaculate still.

At last, Vegeta reached the tall mutant and did almost fall then. Buu made no move to catch the unsteady Saiyan but watched him curiously.

Suddenly, there was a sharp sound that cut the silence and Vegeta fell to his knees. A swift and well-aimed shot, directed at Vegeta's knee had taken the Saiyan by surprise. The downed man clutched his pierced knee for a moment, grimacing.

Bow did not like being ignored and was making it clear.

 

 

Vegeta pushed the pain, with all the rest, to the back of his mind and, with everything he had left, got back to his feet.

As he fought to stand up straight before Buu, Vegeta's body swayed and trembled beneath its own weight. His legs quavered and longed to collapse in on themselves, but the prince's strong mind kept them in check.

He looked so much like him, Vegeta couldn't help thinking. As he looked up into the pink, waxy face of Buu, he was struck by the sight. He stared for a time, almost completely forgetting what he was meant to do. Vegeta hadn't been within such close proximity of Buu for a long time, hadn't allowed it, but he was able to see now, in this critical moment, how much the mutant's appearance had truly taken on the traits of Kakarot. But it was more than that... Vegeta shook his head, and grouped his thoughts together.

 

 

Above them, Bow prepared to toss another, less forgiving shot down at the inattentive Saiyan, but Buu raised a steady hand to halt the action, curious to see where this was going.

Finally, Vegeta mumbled something in his weakened, hoarse voice. Buu didn't catch it and dipped his neck slightly to better hear.

“Kakarot,” Vegeta said again.

Buu stammered and almost stepped back.

“Kakarot!” Vegeta spat and the name looked more painful to him than the beating.

Bow descended some yards behind them.

“What's he saying?” he called over, amused by the odd sight. He seemed delighted by the possibility that he'd beaten the Saiyan senseless.

Buu took no notice of his comrade but listened to the prince, dumbfounded.

As though the act of speaking the name had taken the last of his strength, Vegeta fell forward. His head and bloodied fists connected weakly with Buu's chest. Buu didn't know how the depleted Saiyan was still standing, but most of his weight seemed to be leaning against the mutant.

Buu was frozen. Of all the things he'd expected from the Saiyan, this was far from the imaginable. Buu was uncomfortable, to say the least. This was a battle ground and the prince was … leaning on him— almost _nuzzling_ him. It was in no way aggressive but Buu still felt he ought to take some offense to the contact. He looked to Bow, as if his fledgling might be able to supply some order to the situation. But Bow was studying them both now with as much confusion as Buu felt. All the amusement was gone from his keen features. Buu felt his face burn. 

Finally, Buu's hands found Vegeta's shoulders and he managed to push the slighter man off of him. Now holding him, somewhat awkwardly, at arms length, the mutant examined the Saiyan's face for some kind of explanation. What he found there, made Buu even more confused. Lining the Saiyan's cheeks were what appeared to be the glistening streaks of tears. More striking still was the expression on the dirty, weary face.

Vegeta should hate him and want to kill him right now, Buu knew. The mutant had just destroyed all of his loved ones, everyone and everything the Saiyan knew. Everything Buu had learned about the man before him implored him that Vegeta should be wholly engulfed in a fiery rage at this moment. And yet, here he was, weakened, humbled... If Buu had to pinpoint it, he would say that Vegeta appeared to be _surrendering_ to him.

Buu had no idea what to do.

Instinctively, the bewildered mutant's mind scanned his acquired memories and experiences in search of a match, some similar occasion to reference and know how to appropriately proceed. But there was no such memory, no occasion that Buu had readily on file. None but one and Buu didn't see how it was similar, except that in it, Vegeta was also severely weakened, beaten, and crying.

The memory he found was one he'd acquired from the Saiyan, Goku. In this particular memory, Vegeta was bloodied and badly beaten and his armor at the time was holding up little better than it was now. He was on the ground and dying on Namek. He was pleading then as he did now with the name. It was that name again. Buu had no memory before that or since of Vegeta ever allowing himself to become so completely vulnerable. He was pleading to Goku then. He was pleading for Goku to avenge their race and kill the creature who had tormented him for so long. Now he was pleading to Buu, _with the name_. What was he trying to do?

While Buu was frozen to the spot, Bow alone was struck with a course of action. The younger mutant came forward and seized the prince from Buu's grasp as though Vegeta were a toy and Bow didn't care whether or not it was his turn to play with him.

 

 

Vegeta had become disoriented from the agony his body had endured, which he could no longer ignore. And the submission of calling to Kakarot had been greatly taxing on him. He felt weak in both body and mind. He wanted to be done. He'd done what he was supposed to do. Now he was tired and beaten and he wanted it all to end. But now rough hands were gripping him by the arms, turning him roughly around and promising him no relief. Vegeta felt am overwhelming dizziness.

 

 

Bow turned Vegeta to face him and looked into his eyes, looking for what he didn't know. Perhaps he was looking for what had caused his maker to go so silent and still all of a sudden. He stared a long time, examining the prince all over. Whatever he found there wasn't especially satisfying. He lifted Vegeta up to smell his face where the streaks of tears still shone and he took in the salty scent. He found there was something satisfying in that.

 

 

Vegeta grimaced as he was squeezed, his ribs crying out in distress. His vision was going dark and he felt the situation and all of his surroundings quickly slipping from his grasp. The breath of Buu's fledgling on his cheek was one of the last things he comprehended before blacking out. Vaguely, he heard Buu's voice behind him.

_“Bow!”_


	12. Alone In Buu's World

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The battle with Bow is over and Vegeta survived, but what is left for the Saiyan now that he's the only one left. Without the safety of The Lookout and the counsil of Dende, how will Vegeta survive in this new world?

It was getting dark over the rocky plain. The sun was setting and the battle sight had fallen to a dead stillness.

Buu stood, silent as the battleground, looking over the rock plain, where, among the waste and rubble, a body lay unconscious.

He thought back to the day he'd fought and tormented Vegeta before leaving him defeated and soiled in the woods. He'd never done that to a victim. Before that, he'd never even considered it. That day, however, it brought the destructive alien a new kind of satisfaction. He'd told himself it was just the thrill of getting under the haughty prince's skin and conquering him in a way no one else had. It was simple. The prince was cocky and had the nerve to challenge the almighty Buu even when it was clear he would lose. So, Buu dealt with Vegeta in the most effective way he could think of based on all of his gathered knowledge of the Saiyan, and yes, he'd enjoyed it. That kind of blind arrogance deserved more than a beating and Buu was more than happy to shake things up a little. Sure, he’d left him alive, but that too was a part of the torment really. Vegeta would have to live and remember that humiliation. And Buu knew, in his vast well of accumulated memories and knowledge, that that was worse than death to this particular opponent.

That, Buu concluded, was why he'd done it and why he left him alive. Simple as that. He didn't need to explain himself to anyone.

Still, in Buu's mind he saw the Saiyan’s small, muscular body splayed out and unfurled beneath him. As the mutant penetrated the retching form, shuddering breaths heaved through trembling lips. Buu could taste the sweat covering the convulsing body. The scene was a regular film that played and replayed in the mutant's mind at idle moments, often without his even conjuring it. The vision of the proud prince so completely defeated and undone haunted Buu and sparked a fire deep in his gut. The bizarre thrill he felt from seeing the Saiyan warrior like that was greater than any thrill he'd derived from any crumbling structure or burning forest, it was greater than any totaled city or even any planet turned to dust. He realized then what he'd somehow always known, that he did enjoy Vegeta and it definitely wasn't so simple.

Now, the Saiyan lay in a heap in the rocks and dust where Buu had left him. His midnight-blue suit was torn, skin smudged with dirt where it wasn't scraped or broken.

How long would he sleep?

A better question yet-- what would happen when he awoke?

Would Buu kill him then? If so, why not kill him now?

He'd hit that knotted tangle in his mind again. It was always a mess of tension when his thoughts moved to the prince. Maybe he ought to consult Bow. That was what the fledgling mutant was there for, after all. He had no tangles to get caught in, nothing to stop him from carrying out Buu's wishes.

But Buu's mind felt fine. He felt like he was in control! He felt good! Why should he have to doubt himself in every decision?

He looked at the unconscious prince again. The wind glided over his prone body, rustling his raven hair and flapping the shreds of his ravaged clothes. The scent of the Saiyan was carried over the plain and when it suddenly hit Buu, it was like a punch in the face. It was all the mutant could do not to close his eyes and take it in deeply. Finally, he couldn't hold in the guttural moan that sang of his pleasure.

The choppy film played in his mind again without his consent.

When the wind changed directions, Buu opened his eyes again and licked his dry lips.

There was no denying it.

Buu enjoyed Vegeta. He enjoyed him. It wasn't some remote section of his mind that sought to overthrow him-- It was all of him. And what was so wrong with that? Couldn't he enjoy someone? Did he have to destroy everything? Was it so far-fetched that, at the end of a day wrought with destruction and carnage, that all he wanted was a little companionship? Someone to connect with at the end of the world?

His eyes trailed over to where Bow was currently devouring a seagull that had made the mistake of circling over them. He hadn't even bothered to transform it into a food. Buu grimaced slightly.

No, he thought, it wasn't far-fetched that he would crave a certain emotional connection.

Maybe, Buu thought, he didn't have to stress about how he could get around having to kill Vegeta. Maybe he didn't have to kill Vegeta at all. Bow was, after all, a side kick of sorts. They carried on alright, didn't they? Perhaps they could indoctrinate a Saiyan into their little family.

Buu found he quite favored this idea. He was very relieved to not have to battle himself anymore about what he was going to do about the Saiyan. Perhaps he was meant to do this all along and that's why he'd had such strong, conflicting feelings toward the Prince. Maybe he was never meant to kill him at all. Maybe Vegeta was always meant to join him.

He realized he would have to explain this epiphany to Bow and that later he would even need to approach the Saiyan and present him with the news.

'Well hi there, Vegeta!' He pictured himself saying, 'turns out we don't have to kill you after all!'

Right. Somehow, he didn't see Vegeta rushing to his arms.

But then again, he was Buu. He could have what he wanted, whatever he wanted. And besides, the way Vegeta was behaving before-- the surrender-- made Buu feel like his fantasy wasn’t beyond his reach.

When Vegeta had approached him, weakened and beaten, he'd  had a look about him. The smaller man looked up at Buu with those glossy eyes that held none of their usual bitter defiance, but instead swam with tragic, naked longing. Then when Vegeta fell on Buu—actually _fell_ on him—Buu didn’t know what to think. Had the warrior been so weakened at that point that he would allow his guard to slip so totally? Did he not expect Buu to react? It was reckless coming from the strategic warrior elite! It could have been a trick, had it not seemed so... _trusting_.

Buu couldn't deny that it felt good. The evolved mutant had long harbored desires to be close to the Saiyan, to touch him, embrace him. The vision of the prince willingly walking into his arms was-- well, it was surprising.

For a while, Buu studied the unconscious prince as if suspicious of a possible trap. His eyes trailed along the muscled, mostly bare and tattered physique. Though Vegeta's breathing was calm and his body limp, his brow remained sternly furrowed and his lips twitched as if the battle waged on in his mind.

Buu was late to notice the presence at his back.

“Well,” said the presence.

Bow's deep voice was flat with boredom and expectation.

Buu winced to himself, suddenly feeling annoyed.

“We've been here for some time,” Bow began, and Buu already knew what he was getting at. Vegeta was exactly where he'd fallen and Buu hadn't allowed any sort of tampering with him.

“Yes? So?” Buu blurted out.

“Well I was thinking,” Bow went on, maintaining his smooth tone and the air of not pointing out the obvious, “shouldn't we do something about the Saiyan?”

Buu took in a breath and let it out loudly, visibly frustrated.

“Why don't you let me deal with the Saiyan, and you go..." he flailed his hand a broadly. "Find us something to eat?” 

Bow remained silent as he studied his maker, and the look that left little room for argument.

Buu could see that it was not with satisfaction that his creation eventually turned away and took to the sky. 

Buu's eyes trailed after Bow's fleeting figure until he was securely out of sight. When he was sure Bow was gone, he relaxed a little, feeling instantly better. At least now he would have time to think, for a little while at least.

He knew he needed to talk to Bow about his plans with the prince but for some reason he was dreading it, as if Bow would think his maker weak or silly for having such an idea. He decided to table it for the time being.

His eyes trailed back to the grounded Saiyan. To his surprise, Vegeta was stirring. Buu quickly strode over to where his fallen opponent lay and knelt at his side.

Without touching him, Buu leaned in to study him.

He couldn't help feeling a fondness for the prince, who looked like he wasn't one to be crossed even while unconscious. Buu smiled to himself.

“Vegeta,” he said softly and reached a hand out to gently touch the Saiyan's shoulder. “Vegeta,” he said again.

The name felt like honey on his tongue. He leaned in further. His hand moved as if on its own and trailed a knuckle down the troubled face of the prince. He saw the small lips part and felt himself crane his neck down.

Without thinking, he pressed his lips against Vegeta's.

Then Vegeta woke up.

Suddenly, two lively hands found Buu's chest and thrust the mutant away roughly.

Buu was so surprised he nearly tumbled over.

Vegeta scrambled to a knee and with a flash of concentration, threw a close range blast at Buu.

“Wait, Vegeta!”

Buu barely had time to block it but it wouldn't have caused much damage anyway in the prince's worn state.

He tried to calm Vegeta, holding out both hands and keeping his distance. He called to him again but Vegeta sent another blinding blast before thrusting off into the sky.

Buu saw another flash of color shoot by from somewhere behind him and knew at once that Bow had come back.

The young mutant was going for Vegeta.

Buu called after the mad mutant but Bow was already zoned in on his target.

Vegeta was just able to come to a stop when Buu’s duplicate appeared directly in his path.

 

 

The Saiyan's breaths came hard and he was visibly drained as he hovered, hunched and beaten before his foe.

The second Buu was beaming. His young face grinned back at Vegeta. A bare wildness the prince had never seen gleamed back at him from the large, dark eyes. He felt the fear mounting in him and backed away from the mutant.

He hadn’t back away far before colliding with something large and solid behind him. Buu had arrived.

Vegeta spun around, grimacing. As frightened as he was, and he knew he was, he would not show it and he bore his teeth at the bastards who seemed to be teaming up on him.

Buu's eyes did't shine with the same chaos as his fledgling's. Instead, there was a calm severity there, something that would have sent foreboding chills down the Saiyan’s back on any other occasion. Today, however, the look was not pointed at him.

“Leave him,” Buu said, and if Vegeta wasn't so deliriously on edge, the Saiyan would have thought he even saw a little fear in Buu's eyes.

Vegeta was too seasoned a warrior to turn his back to either of them so he moved aside to keep them both in view.

The fire was still blazing in the new mutant's eyes, Vegeta could see that regardless of the dying light. But the fledgling didn't say anything. The grin faded from his face and he didn't look at Vegeta again.

When Buu seemed satisfied that the younger mutant’s lust for blood was stifled, he set his sights on Vegeta.

The Saiyan couldn't place this new look on Buu's face and found himself backing away again.

“Vegeta.”

The alien’s voice was calm and smooth, but did nothing to quell the panic overrunning Vegeta’s system. He instantly began gathering more energy for another disarming blast.

Buu reached out his hand.

“It's alright,” he began.

But Vegeta didn't hear it. His ears were pounding with adrenaline. He threw the explosive blast he'd been saving and took off with the last of his energy as fast as he could.

He wasn't followed.

 

 

When the smoke cleared Bow looked to his master.

Buu watched the form of Vegeta shrink and fade into the dark horizon and lowered his arms.

“We'll let him go for now,” Buu said. He could feel the rage and disappointment radiating from his comrade in waves. He didn't have to look at Bow to know that his fledgling was displeased with the distance their prey was gaining on them.

Buu couldn't keep standing between Bow and Vegeta this way. It was getting out of hand. And the darkening expression on the younger mutant's face told him there was no explaining this away. It was time to talk about the new initiative.

 

 

It was lucky that Vegeta had depleted much of his energy back with the Buus' because now he was in such a frenzy, he didn’t even think about concealing his power.

Where would he go?

He couldn't just keep flying and flying until the whole planet dissolved around him. He needed some place to think, to plan, some place away. Vegeta looked around frantically and with a spark of luck, spotted what looked like a deep cave in the middle of a rock canyon. Without a second's more thought he darted down into the rocky bluff.

Darkness. All dark. The only light came from the opening he'd come from and it was getting darker outside.

For a long time, Vegeta paced. He ran his hands through his hair and implored himself to come up with something.

Finally, he threw himself down against the dimpled rock wall, arms on his knees, fingers dug into his hair.

He was still breathing hard. His heart that had seemed to be beating so fast that it had become one long continuous beat, was just now beginning to slow down.

They hadn't followed him. Was he that fast? Not a chance, he sneered.

Something gleaming in the corner of the room caught Vegeta's eye.

He glanced over and saw the orange gleam of a Dragon Ball and, dismissing it, turned back to the ground.

This was ridiculous.

Vegeta rubbed hard circles his eyes.

At his energy level right now, he couldn't have possibly lost them. They had to be playing with him. He felt like he'd been stabbed with an adrenaline shot. When he'd awoken to find Buu practically on top of him, he’d sprung into action. It had all happened so fast, it was a blur now: The fight with the second mutant; Buu standing off watching him; Buu right in front of him; then darkness, then Buu again; Blasts of energy; The crazy one chasing him-- hadn't Buu said something to keep him away? Vegeta tried to remember. At the time, he was in such a delirious scrounge for survival, he hadn’t fully registered anything. As he fled the scene, body on autopilot, his mind, like a third party, quietly observed the reality of it. Buu had stopped it, that was certain. Buu had stopped the other mutant from attacking him.

Vegeta lifted his head and his fidgeting stilled.

Distantly, Vegeta’s mind recovered another bit of information he'd skimmed over in his panic. In a flash, his attention darted back to the far wall of the cave where a red-orange orb sat bare and gleaming in the darkness.

A Dragon Ball.


	13. A Decision To Be Made

The Dragon Balls.

 

Vegeta turned to the far wall of the room and sure enough, there shone the bright orange gleam of a Dragon Ball.

There shouldn't be Dragon Balls.

He remembered at once when he'd searched this area before and noticed the cave but hadn't bothered checking it after he learned that the Dragon Radar's coordinates were off. He'd missed it. That explained why it was there. But it didn't explain why it wasn't dormant. With the Earth's Guardian gone, it should have turned to stone.

Vegeta crossed the dim cave over to the corner where the gleaming orb sat winking at him and he saw that it certainly was't made of stone.

He picked it up. It had a satisfying heaviness to it. It was as solid and smooth as anything Vegeta had ever touched. It was real! Real, and in its true form!

That could only mean... 

Vegeta did an impossible calculation. 

It had to mean...

“Vegeta.”

The prince whirled around, expecting to see The Guardian standing all flesh and blood behind him, a knowing smile on his serene yet lively face and arms outstretched in offering of a warm hug. And Vegeta would be damned if he did not collapse straight into those healing arms.

But Dende wasn't there. The cave was as empty and hollow as he'd thought it had been before noticing the Dragon Ball.

Had he imagined it?

He looked down at the ball again, then back around at the cave.

“Dende,” he said and surprised himself with how small and hollow his own voice sounded. Was he himself right now? He wouldn't be surprised if he was imagining things after all.

But then he heard it again.

“Vegeta.”

He stared at the Dragon Ball in his hands. Hesitantly, he leaned in as if the voice had come from within the mystical orb.

“Hello,” he whispered into it, like he was testing a microphone. He waited until he felt ridiculous. Cursing himself, he was about to throw the ball back into the corner but then heard a response.

“Vegeta, are you alright?”

Vegeta's breath caught, and he gripped the ball tightly.

It was Dende but the voice was not coming from the Dragon Ball. 

“Dende...where are you?” He called out.

“We're safe, Vegeta." The voice was now resounding clearly, like it was within in his own head.

“Who's we? Who's there with you? Is Bulma there?”

“Yes, Bulma is safe. Her parents as well.”

Vegeta felt a wave of relief.

“And who else-- Krillin, Yamcha?”

“Yes, and Chi-Chi and Mr. Popo, Yajirobe...” Dende went on, “all fine.”

“And the people, the children?” Vegeta ignored what sounded like a hopeful tone in his own tired, cracked voice.

“I took as many as I could,” Dende said, and Vegeta didn't miss the tinge of regret.

A stab of guilt pierced the prince in his already beaten and punctured chest. Somehow it blossomed and overrode the physical pain residing there. 

“It's alright, Vegeta,” Dende said after Vegeta had fallen silent. “There was nothing you could do. We saved as many as we could. Rejoice that we did at least save some. And all isn't lost. You're alive as well. That's the most important thing.”

Despite the Guardian's reassuring words, Vegeta felt anything but at ease. He backed stiffly against the cave wall and slid down to the ground. Setting the ball aside, Vegeta stared into nothing, eyes beginning to glaze.

So many had died-- because of him, he knew. And as terrible as that knowledge was, what stung him most was what he felt now, more than grief over those lost, was relief and joy at hearing the Guardian's voice again.

He'd thought he had lost the Namekian, along with all of the survivors, and not long after that, he'd been ready to lay down his life to join them, ready to... The Saiyan felt his face burn at the thought of what he'd done.

“Why did you wait until now to tell me that you lived?” he choked out, his whole frame beginning to shake. “I could have died! Had I known you lived I would not have been so...” he struggled for the words, shame trapping them in his throat.

“I had to wait, Vegeta.”

“Wait for what,” he spat. “I would have trudged straight into my death! I would have—had I--” his voice broke off and he felt warm streams running down his face.

“Vegeta, you must understand,” Dende persisted calmly. “I had to wait to let you know we lived. It was the only way.”

“I thought...I thought I'd killed you.” Vegeta's voice was a breathy whisper. By “you,” the Saiyan had meant everyone of course, but of everyone he'd left in the temple, the loss of Dende, who had become his friend and source of comfort, pained him the very most.

Dende seemed to read his thoughts.

“I know,” the healer said softly. “Vegeta. I knew that if you thought we'd died, you would resort to the one thing you had refused to do, the one thing that might truly save us all.” He paused. “And you did it.”

Vegeta didn't have to ask. The thought made him grimace and flush. He tightly shut his eyes as if it would block out the shameful memory.

Despite how he fought it, Vegeta's mind went back to what had happened before he blacked out: The foggy image of Buu standing in the dust with his arms crossed as the prince dragged himself across the plane to meet him. The fledgling's blasts were falling all around him but Vegeta had to get to Buu. When he'd finally got there, he'd done something stupid and out of himself-- he must have been delirious from the fight and the dust. He had called for Kakarot. As if the Saiyan were somewhere in there just waiting to be summoned. How ridiculous. Vegeta scoffed at his own wild imagination. He must have been far gone by then. He didn't remember much after that.

He dragged his wrist across his nose, mopping up the snot that was beginning to run there.

“So what,” he said, snorting. “It didn't work. Buu's still here. He still has Kakarot's power.” He let his head fall back against the rock wall.

“But Vegeta,” Dende said. “It _did_ work.”

The Saiyan sighed, body aching and exhausted.

“I know it's hard to believe from what has happened but by simply calling out to Goku, you've set something in motion. You'll see. Buu will start to crumble. You awoken something within him today, whether you see it or not. You've made a difference, Vegeta.”

Vegeta didn't see it, and he didn't want to think about it anymore. His mind was already rattled and now he was talking to a man he _knew_ was dead no more than an hour ago, a man he nearly died for.

“I'm alone here,” he said finally.

“This is good, Vegeta. You must understand that it's for the best. Now that we're not there to distract him, Buu's attention is fully on you. He can't escape you now.”

“I think it's more the other way around.” Vegeta huffed.

“He doesn't want to confront you, Vegeta. I think if you look back, you'll realize that he's been avoiding you.”

“Yes, he’s very effective at that. Was he avoiding me when he send his little minion to kill me? Or when he blew up the Lookout? Or when he tried to...” his voice trailed as his mind drifted to when the mutant had tried to kiss him at Capsule Corps. and to when he did it again earlier as Vegeta came to. In both instances, the mutant had done an especially poor job at avoiding the prince.

“Just relax, Vegeta. It'll all be fine.”

Dende's formless presence lingered with Vegeta into the night and his gentle voice lured the weary Saiyan safely into sleep. He had no battles in his dreams.

 

 

 

Vegeta awoke to an ache that encompassed his entire body. He didn't know how long he'd slept, but he gauged from the agony in his battle-ravaged body, which had not lessened in the slightest, that it had not been long enough. The total bodily agony was joined by a new sharp discomfort in his side from where a the uneven rock floor had been jutting into him as he slept.

The entrance to the cave glowed with the orange light of the sun.

Lost in his physical pain, Vegeta took a moment to orient himself. Pushing himself up with his good hand, he glanced around and saw the lone Dragon Ball. It gleamed brightly in the dim space, as if it had absorbed all of the light in the cave.

So, it hadn’t been a dream.

Vegeta had fought Buu's creation and fled to this cave. It was after Buu destroyed the Lookout and killed...

Vegeta took in a breath and felt a huge crushing weight lifted from him.

That too surely had not been a dream.

As clear as the Dragon Ball sitting in the corner of the cave, the others were alive! Buu hadn't succeeded in killing them!

He'd spoken to Dende and the Namekian had assured him that they were all, for the most part (Vegeta felt a pang in his chest), alive and well.

Vegeta opened his mouth to call out to the Guardian. Nothing came out at first and he had to cough to clear his throat. When his voice finally came it was rough and hoarse. He hoped he wouldn't need to shout to be heard. He wasn't sure if there was some sort of rule to the communication lines. Did Vegeta only have to think of Dende in order to connect with him? Did he have the power to do it at all? He'd certainly never spoken with the Namekian this way before. After some strained minutes of trying to connect with the Guardian telepathically, the Saiyan decided that it must only work one way.

After the momentous relief of the previous night's news, Vegeta felt as close to at ease as he'd felt in a while. Starting languidly toward the cave opening, the Saiyan decided that a stretch would be refreshing and very called for after yesterday's arduous battle.

Shuffling out onto the rocky “porch” that looked out over the canyons, Vegeta shielded his eyes from the blinding brightness. The towering walls radiated with warmth and light from the morning sun. Stretching his arms out wide like a hawk spreading its wings, he took in a great breath. If he had to be the last man on Earth, it wasn't a bad day for it.

“VEGETA!”

The thunderous shriek that broke out in his head nearly startled the prince off the cliff.

“Vegeta, what are you doing? You have to collect the remaining Dragon Balls! There's no time to waste!”

Vegeta's hands instinctively flew to his pounding ears and he did his best to recoil from the sourceless screaming. After blocking his eardrums seemed to do nothing to muffle the racket, Vegeta was horrified to concede that the voice was exclusively in his head and there was nothing he could do to escape it.

“Get that Dragon Radar and get to work, buster! Every day you go without assembling those Dragon Balls is a day wasted! Get moving! The planet is in jeopardy!!”

“GAH!”

“Sorry, Vegeta,” chimed Dende solemnly, “I tried to tell her you needed more time to rest but she insisted.”

“I want my planet back!” Bulma boomed through The Guardian.

Vegeta growled deeply in annoyance.

“Bulma, please, there's no need to shout, he can hear us very well.”

Vegeta didn't need to see to imaging the brazen blue-haired woman looming over the wincing Guardian, one hand clasping his shoulder painfully, the other balled into a fist ready to throw at anyone who dared deny her her justice.

“Well, I'm glad!” she hooted. “He's been sleeping for nearly thirty hours! Meanwhile, I don't even know what planet I'm on!”

“Ssssh, Bulma. I had to pick a system distant enough for us not to be traced. It had to appear that we were wiped from existence.”

Vegeta massaged his aching temples, the peaceful scenery suddenly doing nothing for him.

“Well I _feel_ wiped from existence! Listen, Vegeta, the sooner you find those Dragon Balls, the sooner we can get off this dead planet! There's nothing but ticks and sludge here!”

“Those aren't ticks!” Dende defended. “Those are the inhabitants of this planet. And if you would just try the 'sludge' you would see it's very filling and full of nutrients.”

“Not happening.”

“Enough!” Vegeta howled into the canyon and all went deathly silent save for the frantic flapping of wings as birds nesting in the rock walls took flight. He was through playing unwilling audience to the bickering pair. “You will attempt to send me errands now from the next galaxy over?” He barked. “Why don't you mind your own planet!”

Bulma huffed loudly and, to Vegeta's irritation, the vision of her tossing her bangs dismissively registered from across the galaxy.

“Oh! An errand! So saving the world is an _errand_ '?” she shot.

“Get out of my head, woman!”

The married couple's argument escalated while Dende did his best to mediate. Eventually, the passive guardian was forced to pry Bulma from the connection so he could regain control of the transmission.

“Vegeta,” Dende said. His voice was back to its gentle tone, albiet with an added breathlessness-- Vegeta guessed that the polite Namekian had had to put some distance between himself and Bulma in order to dislodge her from the connection. “The Dragon Balls are always available to aid,” he continued. “But I urge you to consider what we talked about. I know that with just a little time, the presence of Goku within Buu will have become too strong to contain and he will begin to destroy himself from the inside.”

“Do we even have time?”

Dende didn't answer immediately but when he did it was with a truthful uncertainty.

“I don't know," he said. "But I feel with all of my being that it's our surest chance. Hey-- stop that! Bulma! Cut it out!”

Vegeta heard some rustling and it seemed that Bulma had caught up with him.

“No-- Bulma! I mean it-- Vegeta, I gotta go!”

With that, The Guardian was gone again. Vegeta hadn't had time to say more. He didn't know what he would have said, but he knew that he didn't feel any less conflicted after that conversation.

The groggy prince receded back into the cave. The single Dragon Ball sitting in the corner gleamed invitingly at him. For a moment, he consider the small orb. Then he turned to look out the bright opening of the cave. He looked again to the Dragon Ball.

Vegeta did a quick calculation:

Wish one: Wish Kakarot out of Buu.

Wish two: Wish all those killed by the Buu’s back to life.

Wish three: Wish the others back to Earth.

He envisioned this in his mind and weighed it.

He did another calculation:

Wish one: Immortality.

Wish two: Wish all those killed by the Buu’s back to life.

Wish three: Wish memories away.

Vegeta allowed himself the moment of indulgence, but only a moment. The Saiyan had witnessed and learned much through the years, and of the many lessons, he learned foremost that heroes were not selfish. The weathered prince wondered before he could stop himself whether Kakarot had ever thought of wishing anything for himself. Then he shoved the thought away. The oaf had a way of creeping into his mind when he was neither needed nor wanted.

 _You aren't helping, Kakarot_.

Vegeta knew he could go one of two ways: He could either swallow his pride, summon the dragon and wish Kakarot out of Buu so that the mutant would be drastically weaker and therefore beatable. However, from what Vegeta understood, the mutant’s personality would also be drastically different and he would not be the same Buu that had drawn out the Saiyan's slow and terrible torture in the grove that day.  _That_  Buu will have 'gotten away' in a sense, never to return, and so Vegeta would never be able to have his vengeance;  _Or_  there was the other way: Vegeta could do what Dende had been urging him to do all along and destroy Buu from within using his relationship with Kakarot. The idea made Vegeta feel instantly queasy. His whole being recoiled from the idea of facing Buu in any way that was not hostile.

Vegeta would never understand The Guardian's unwavering certainly when it came to impossible odds, but there was no doubt that the Saiyan was drawn to it. If Dende was right, then Buu was already crumbling, and Vegeta's mere existence was a daily assault on his very being. All Vegeta would need to do was give him a push.

But could he face Buu again, after all that had happened? Was it hate and revulsion that kept him away or, when Vegeta looked deep into himself, would he see that it was fear? Fear of Buu? Fear of what Kakarot had changed in Buu? Fear that what happened that day in The Grove might happen again...

Vegeta seethed.

Why couldn't Buu just fight him like a normal foe?

The truth was that what scared Vegeta most was what every meeting with the tyrant did to his mind. Injuries could heal, no matter how deep, but Buu had a way of getting inside the Saiyan and tormenting him long after the physical damage was done.

The toughest part of the Dragon Ball rout was shoving his own pride aside. No small feat on its own. However, going into psychological warfare with Buu was another challenge entirely.

Vegeta had a decision to make.


	14. The Proposal

The air was humid and carried the heat like a sponge.

Vegeta tried to remember the location of the cave as he drew nearer to the jagged canyons. Dende's Lookout had always been a faithful landmark for him but it was gone now. His eyes instinctively found the dusty spot in the sky where the great temple once stood. The jagged-edged pole on which the temple once perched still jutted out uselessly into the atmosphere, but now had nothing to connect to. It was shorter than it was when he'd last seen it. It was slowly breaking off as if it was the Temple that held it there and not the other way around.

Vegeta tore his eyes away from it.

He still felt a stinging pain in his chest when his thoughts drifted to The Lookout and its preventable last moments. Dende had told him it was inevitable, that it was only a matter of time until Buu payed them a visit, but still Vegeta felt responsible. He wasn't there. The last Saiyan and Z fighter and perhaps now Earth's only hero, had run off to get some alone time.

Vegeta cursed himself.

It did ease his burden a measure however when he learned not long after that that the Guardian lived, along with a handful of the Earthlings, having been transported by Dende at the last second to a distant planet, far from Buu's detection.

There were still countless others who had met their fiery ends at the hand of the merciless mutant though and Vegeta bore the burden of that knowledge constantly. But now wasn't the time for mourning. Now was the time for action, and Vegeta had made his decision.

There were two weights tugging at his pants, the weight of the Dragon Radar and the marble heaviness of a second Dragon Ball. That morning, the Saiyan had made his steady way back in the direction of Bulma's abandoned aircraft to retrieve the discarded Dragon Radar. It was vaguely in the same direction as the Buu's but Vegeta flew at such a subdued speed that he hoped he would not draw attention to himself. He felt nearly as weak as he had the day after The Grove. He doubted he could manage flying much faster if he wanted to. Luckily, he ran into no one. When he'd finally found the grassy forest where Bulma's craft had landed, he saw the discarded radar beeping away rapidly. Bulma must have been closing in on the next Dragon Ball when Buu had found her.

Now, Vegeta flew back to the cave with both Dragon Ball and Radar in hand and there was still no sign of the Buu's.

He hadn't seen them in days in fact. The day after the battle, Vegeta journeyed back to the toppled remains of Capsule Corporation to locate some more of his clothes. Luckily, the Saiyan's specially designed training suits were not so easily destroyed, so he found them in good condition and took as many back to the cave with him as he could carry. That day, he'd been sure that he would run into at least one of the Buu's, but he didn't then either.

 

Landing lightly in the dimly lit cave, Vegeta set the second Dragon Ball down with little care next to the first. His eyes drifted back to the radar without a second glance at the discarded orange orbs.

The Saiyan was ready to complete his task. The less time he spent thinking about it, the better. He knew the more he reflected on what he was doing, the more he detested it. He had to do it though. As much as he hated the idea of wishing out Kakarot instead of beating him, the alternative was far more repulsive. He would avoid Buu and his freaky fledgling at whatever cost.

Vegeta zoomed out on the radar screen. The next two Dragon Balls were located not too distant from each other in a large body of water nearly 2,000 kilometers west of there. He guessed he would make it there and back by nightfall if he quickened his pace slightly. He didn't like to think about it, but the idea of being out after nightfall and not knowing where the Buu's were made him anxious. They hadn't made an appearance in a few weeks and he knew it wasn't in Buu's wiring to just leave the Saiyan alone.

He set out for the next Dragon Balls.

 

 

The body of water was actually a very large lake and the heart of it was deeper than Vegeta had anticipated. The first Dragon Ball was easy enough to locate and was lodged in some rocks near the shore. The next was more difficult and seemed to have sunk to the bottom. He had to come up for air three times before he was able to locate it. It was gleaming and otherworldly in the black pit of the lake. Its alien glow was nearly hidden by the slowly swaying weeds covering the lake bed.

It was mesmerizing and beautiful and Vegeta felt stirring in his belly a long forgotten thrill that once claimed him when he looked upon the magical orbs. It left quickly though when the face of the Earth Saiyan flashed his mind.

He tore the glowing orb from the twisted reeves that seemed to cling to it covetously. Large fish and other mysterious creatures of the deep began to stir as if awoken by the movement of the Dragon Ball. They sprung from their dark holes and tried to block Vegeta's ascent back to the surface. They snaked and lunged but, while they would have given an Earthling adventurer trouble, Vegeta avoided them easily enough.

He broke through the surface of the lake with a deep sigh, and glided to the shore. Four down.

He landed and seated himself in the sand. The sun was setting on the other side of the great, expansive lake. He watched it, catching his breath, but, for the first time in a long time, not feeling rushed. It was so quiet.

As he began to relax, Vegeta thought that it even looked beautiful.

“Should I leave it for you, Prince.”

The Saiyan turned swiftly and saw Buu leaning against a tree. He rose to his feet at once.

“The sun, I mean,” the mutant continued casually. “I'll leave it there, if you enjoy it. If I turn everything else in this dull universe to ash, that sun will be left for your enjoyment alone. I promise that.”

Vegeta didn't register the words and his eyes darted from Buu to the many trees behind him as if someone else would emerge from them next.

“Bow isn't here,” Buu replied, noticing the shifting gaze. “And he won't bother you anymore-- unless I say, “ he added with a small grin. “Only kidding. We both agree it's not nice to bully a potential friend.”

Vegeta's eyes stopped scanning the perimeter and he focused on Buu, confusion growing clear on his hostile features.

“Yes,” Buu said, noting Vegeta's measuring gaze, “hard to trust me.” He looked down and seemed to be kicking at something, and when he met Vegeta's eyes again, there was an imploring sincerity there that caught the Saiyan off guard. “We are very alike, you and I. I think it's time we stopped fighting each other.”

Buu kicked off of the tree and Vegeta braced himself for an attack. But the passive mutant only turned and withdrew back into the woods.

“Think it over,” he called over his shoulder. “You'll find us just south of your metropolis.” He stopped a moment. “Oh and Vegeta, you have until mid-day. If you don't show, we find you.”

And Buu was gone.

Vegeta hadn't even sensed him.

The Saiyan could have howled in frustration and he would have if he didn't fear the mutant was still nearby.

Did they always know where he was? And what was he saying? A potential friend?

Vegeta was in the air with the radar and the two Dragon Balls and heading back toward the cave. Then he stopped, frozen above the treeline.

Did they know where the cave was too?

 

 

“Dende!” He hurled the Dragon Balls into a corner of the cave with the other two. “What do I do now, Guardian!” he voice was a roar that echoed off the jagged walls and howled into the night.

“Dende!” He thrust his fist at the wall, making a meteoric crater where it hit. “What is your counsel for this, Namekian!” His fists were clenched and his power rose up around him, threatening the entire cavern.

A small and steady voice eventually answered him and it sounded like it came from the end of a long hallway. “The decision has been made for you,” it said.

“What,” Vegeta spat incredulously at the bodiless entity. “You're damn right it has! What about the Dragon Balls? What about wishing Kakarot out? You were all so damn certain!”

“We were not quick enough, Vegeta,” came the solemn voice. "I'm sorry."

“Too late,” Vegeta hissed. The Guardian's unshakable calm only served to infuriate the Saiyan more.

“Listen, Vegeta,” Dende began.

“No!” Vegeta roared, “I am through listening to your advise! Your advise has gotten me here. They know how to find me! There's no hiding from them any longer. Did you hear him-- I have until mid-day tomorrow before I have to face them again, do you understand? What can you possibly tell me now?”

“Vegeta,” The Guardian said, voice rising to the antagonizing Saiyan. “You fear this and you dread this but it is always what had to be done. You alone can beat Buu. You must face him, though you don't want to. It must be done. It was always what had to be done.”

Vegeta went still and his power fell.

“I will be with you.” Dende added, and he did sound sorry.

Vegeta sank to the ground.

 

 

Buu sat with his legs propped on a block of rubble. Rolling three stones around in his hand, he watched the sky and waited for the sun to rise.


	15. Giving In

 

Vegeta was flying in the direction of the metropolis and would arrive there shortly before mid-day.

It had taken nearly all morning to build himself up and finally make his way to Buu’s encampment.

Dende had to assure him repeatedly that he would be in the Saiyan's head the entire time before the prince would even leave the cave. There was a time when Vegeta abhorred the idea of the Namekian sifting around his mind, but lately, Dende's presence there was the only thing that brought the Saiyan solace. That morning, however, Dende’s voice had been a source of great frustration. The two had argued at great length.

“I'm not The Guardian of Earth, it's not  _my_  responsibility to protect this planet. I must protect myself!”

Dende agreed, to Vegeta's agitation.

“Don't you see what he would do?”

The Guardian went silent.

“You've seen it,” Vegeta continued. “You know...” He couldn't say it, but he didn't have to.

“Yes, I know,” came Dende's soft voice.

“And you would have me do this... even knowing what will happen, you would have me go to him. This is what you want?” Vegeta asked genuinely. There was no bite in his tone. He wanted to hear Dende's answer because he knew, whatever it was, that he would do what the Namekian asked of him. Maybe he always would have done what the Namekian told him. There was no one in the universe, the prince had come to realize, whom he trusted more. He knew it that moment that if Dende asked him to go to Buu, he would do it.

But he needed to hear it.

“Vegeta,” Dende said, and his tone was heavy, the way it was when he was no longer consoling Vegeta, but telling him something he needed to hear whether he wanted to or not, “I'm your friend, you know that.”

Vegeta's eyes fell closed.

“But I am,” Dende continued. “Above all things, The Guardian of Earth. This is what needs to be done to save the planet. It is what I ask of you.”

Vegeta felt warmth brimming behind his eyelids before small streams ran down his face. His fist, that had been solid stones at his sides, began to crumble.

Nothing more needed to be said.

 

Now, Vegeta was flying toward the camp of the Buus.

“Remember,” came Dende's voice in Vegeta's head, like an invisible companion as the Saiyan drew nearer to the ominous meeting spot. “Keep calm, and _do not_ attack unless they strike first. I doubt they will, but please do your best not to give them a reason.”

Vegeta was clenching his jaw so hard, his teeth began to ache.

“And don't raise your power,” Dende added hastily. “I know Buu wouldn't easily resort to harming you but the other one...he's not so predictable. It's best not to do anything that might provoke him.”

Vegeta had been silent the entire flight. It had taken all of his will to get him this far. He couldn't believe it had come to this. If Dende's voice hadn't been coaxing him along like a parent dragging an obstinate child, Vegeta likely would have turned back several times.

The Guardian's voice droned on, lecturing him. Vegeta had stopped listening at some point to the words themselves and just let his steady voice soothe him.

When it came down to it, how much good would the advice really do? When Buu was staring him in the face, grinning with his fangs and dark pools of eyes, would Dende be able to stand between him and the terrible things the mutant's twisted mind could think up? What advice could the Guardian offer him when the Saiyan was pinned between two Buus, a mere puppet to their conjoined whims?

This was madness.

He was delivering himself to the monster. Like a gift. He could have worn a bow and it wouldn't have seemed out of place.

He should be finding a way off the planet to join the others…or training-- not walking right into their welcoming claws.

Vegeta's muscles seized up as he flew, every atom in his body imploring him to go the other way. His power level was steadily rising like heat from a kettle on high. Steam would soon be bursting from his ears. In a distant corner of his mind, Dende was speaking in fast, frantic tones to him but the fuming Saiyan couldn't hear.

Vegeta was so divided by the fatal stupidity of what he was doing that he nearly flew right over Buu’s encampment. Dende’s voice finally broke through the fog.

“It’s there, Vegeta! You’re above the camp!”

 

 

Below, Buu had not missed the prince. In fact, he'd been waiting for him. Since the day before, when the senior mutant had returned from his visit with the Saiyan, he'd been standing like a statue in the very spot and hadn't diverted his full attention from the East skies for even an instant.

When the navy-blue clad Saiyan came into view, an inexorable grin spread on the mutant’s lips.

Bow, who had been lounging around all morning in a dark mood that was becoming more and more typical of the fledgling, did not rise from his reclined pose. Only his dark eyes moved as they followed the descending form. A slight slackening of his jaw was the only hint to an aroused interest.

Vegeta’s hair flapped in the wind as he dropped to the dirt clearing where the Buus had “made” their home.

 

 

The obvious excitement in Buu’s entrapped features was a discomfiting welcome to the prince. Even given the wide berth of distance between the tall mutant and where Vegeta had landed, the Saiyan could still feel the excitement radiating from Buu in rivulets. Buu’s exuberant state was made even more apparent by its stark contrast to the lounging fledgling behind him, who seemed to have barely registered the Saiyan’s arrival.

Vegeta wasn’t complaining. He was glad to not be the target of the deranged mutant’s attention. It was bad enough having to feel the enduring eyes of Buu clinging to him. Vegeta had felt it even before landing-- even before nearly passing over the clearing. Had he felt it before even nearing the encampment? Before leaving the cave? He shook of the sudden chill that ran up his spine.

Now Buu stood there taking him in with all his clinging unbridled fascination, as if his eyes could reach out and touch him. The gaze was so intimate, so  _knowing_  that Vegeta could barely meet it. He couldn’t help the urge to turn is head from the prying eyes, but Dende’s voice rose in his mind warning him to conceal his discomfort.

“You don’t want to insult them,” he said evenly. “You need to gain their trust.”

Vegeta did his best to hide his revulsion but when the mutant spoke his name, he felt the bile rising in his throat.

“You’ve come,” Buu’s voice was airy and buoyant and reminded Vegeta of a party host, welcoming a guest. The other, reclining on a stone nearby, could not appear less impressed.

“I wasn’t given much of a choice,” Vegeta called back and it was the truth. Buu hadn’t elaborated on what ‘we’ll find you,’ meant but the Saiyan was certain it would not be a friendly phone call.

Buu laughed openly.

“Yes,” he said, smiling broadly. “I may have been a bit blunt. But nevermind. You’ve made a decision then?”

The idea that Buu thought Vegeta still had some sort of say in the matter was infuriating to the Saiyan. Of course Vegeta was accepting. They both knew who was the strongest there; It wasn’t as if Vegeta could just politely decline his offer and the Buus would just let him stroll off the premise. The charade was pointless and humiliating. They knew exactly why Vegeta was there. It seemed, however, that Buu needed to hear it.

“I accept you’re offer,” Vegeta submitted, biting back the grimace.

Buu’s smile waned. He looked almost shocked.

There was a long pause and Vegeta almost rolled his eyes.

“I will join you,” he clarified, fists clenched at his sides.

It was done. Let the flood come.

Buu was speechless for a moment longer before that unearthly elation returned to his eyes. He turned back to the hut suddenly to regard his comrade, as if seeking someone to share in the joyous moment.

The fledgling, however, was uninterested in sharing in his maker’s joy and let his attention go to a passing bird. Buu was not deterred by the other’s lack of enthusiasm and turned back to the Saiyan.

“Is it true,” he asked cautiously.

Vegeta bit his lip. “Yes. That’s why I’m here.”

Buu looked back again at his comrade for validation, but Bow was picking feathers from his teeth.

The stunned mutant looked at Vegeta, a genuine smile claimed his lips.

He moved toward the Saiyan.

Dende had been curiously silent the whole time and Vegeta would have taken it to mean that the parental Namekian had trusted him enough not to butt in, but then he remembered a hazy bit of advice Dende had given him on the flight there. The Namekian had warned him that if Vegeta got too stressed or shut himself off, their connection could be blocked.

Suddenly panicked, he tried to clear his head.

Buu was crossing the clearing.

Vegeta steeled himself.

Buu stopped a few paces in front of the Saiyan and Vegeta could see clearly now what he had dreaded. When he'd arrived, he'd intentionally landed a good distance from the encampment, mainly as a caution but also to put off this terrible closeness. He hadn’t noticed it yesterday because the mutant didn't approach him then. Now it was so clear. Vegeta hadn't prepared for this.

_His face..._

“Vegeta.”

_Nose…_

Buu’s large, pink hands came up and clamped on the stilled Saiyan’s shoulders.

_Mouth…_

“You’ve made me so happy today, Prince.”

_Kakarot…_

“Welcome to our family,” Buu said, smiling broadly with his stolen features.

Vegeta wouldn't have thought it possible, but somehow Buu looked even more like the absorbed third-class Saiyan than last he’d seen him. How could it be? His chest ached with the urgency with which his heart pounded within it.

“Bow, say hello to the newest member of our family,” Buu called behind him.

Bow burped up a feather.

“He is one of us now,” Buu said, but it sounded like it was meant more for Vegeta to hear. Idly, a clawed thumb traced up the Saiyan’s neck.

Vegeta strained to keep his breathing level.

“You’ve chosen wisely, Vegeta.”

“As I said,” Vegeta choked, finding his voice. The unwanted thumb now grazing his ear was a welcome distraction to the overwhelmingly familiar creature filling his vision. “I had no choice.”

Buu’s smile didn't waver, nor did he remove his hand from Vegeta's shoulder.

“Always fighting for fighting’s sake, Vegeta,” Buu doted, taking a step forward. “But you won’t fight anymore, will you?” Their chests were nearly touching.

Vegeta tried to shut out the weight of the red eyes baring down on him.  _Calm down. Calm down._ He tried to focus anywhere else but on that face and body that were so strikingly similiar …he scanned the area and found the lounging mutant a small distance behind Buu. He noticed that the fledgling’s eyes were now wholly focused on them.

Buu caught the tension in the Saiyan’s flickering gaze.

“Bow will not harm you, Prince,” he soothed quietly, leaning into the slighter man. “You don’t need to worry about him anymore.”

Vegeta almost growled at the wording but only grit his teeth. Despite how decisively he’d lost the last—two—battles with the other mutant, of the two Buus, he was not afraid of what the  _other_  would do to him. It was Buu he was worried about.

“I know,” Buu perked up, struck with an idea. “Come with me.”

Sliding a hand to the Saiyan’s lower back, Buu led Vegeta away from the open clearing and his fledgling's watchful gaze.

 

 

Buu took Vegeta for a tour around the property and only when the mutant’s hand left his back did the Saiyan begin to breath normally again.

It was a white, cement-like mold that made up the alien structure. Vegeta knew it wasn’t really cement, but something the mutants produced themselves. The hut was large, rounded and oddly shaped over-all, but had recognizable doors and windows and appeared to have a smaller second story.

Buu was telling him about how long it took to build their “house” and the varying rooms inside. The Saiyan responded scarcely and with only subtle nods. He took this time to ground himself and steady his mind.

Buu was relaying a “funny” anecdote about when Bow had thought it would be a good idea to use bodies as walling and Buu came back from an errand to a find half the house constructed of stacked Earthling corpses. As he laughed broadly, Vegeta suddenly heard another voice.

“Can you hear me? Vegeta?”

It was Dende.

Vegeta was so startled he almost looked around for the source, but caught himself before Buu could notice.

“It’s alright,” said the Namekian, voice now coming in clear. “That’s it, just relax. I think we’re connected again. If you want to communicate with me, just think it—don’t speak.”

 _Dende,_  Vegeta thought,  _where did you go?_

“I must have been blocked out." Dende said. "It’s alright, I was with you the entire time. You did very well. Just try and stay calm or we’ll lose the connection again.”

Vegeta breathed deeply and did feel comforted. He was not alone now.

_What do I do?_

“You’re doing very well. It’s going great. He seems to be very comfortable.”

 _Wonderful_ , Vegeta thought, almost guffawing aloud,  _I’m glad he’s having a good time. I’m about to have a heart attack._

“Just go along with it.”

Buu led Vegeta to a sizable lake behind the camp. He explained that it was not a real lake, that he and Bow had wanted one and so created it. They’d blasted a large crater and went to the ocean. Buu began to smile as he described how they sucked up thousands of gallons of water until they nearly burst. They couldn’t fly very fast with all the water so they just inched along all the way back to the camp. Laughing, he mused that they probably looked like giant pink blimps to anyone who spotted them from below. 

They finished the tour and Vegeta was restless. If he was on the right track to beating Buu, why did it feel like he was accomplishing nothing?

“Well, now what?” He asked suddenly. It was the first he’d spoken in some time and Buu, who was kneeling next to the water, looked almost startled.

“I’ve joined you,” Vegeta said. “Now what?”

Buu watched him a moment.

“We do what we want,” he said simply, standing to face the stern Saiyan.

 _Like_   _a_   _child_ , Vegeta thought and almost rolled his eyes.

“What of the  _Earth_?”

 

 

Buu thought a moment and shrugged.

“Destroy it,” he said simply. He hadn’t really thought about it honestly but he said it anyway because he knew it would ruffle the prince. And he so enjoyed seeing Vegeta that way. 

Vegeta’s arms were crossed so furiously that he might've bruised his chest.

Forgetting the lake, Buu turned his attention fully on his new companion and took a step toward him. Vegeta was tense in every sense of the word and Buu knew he was biting back a remark.

“Do you oppose this plan, Vegeta?” he asked and his tone was bating. He moved closer to the Saiyan, who would not meet his eyes.

Vegeta seemed to be struggling to breath normally.

“Vegeta,” Buu prodded and he was standing over of the slighter man, neck craning down to read the strained expression, “Vegeta?”

“No,” the prince said at last, looking up at the mutant.

Buu drank in the dark eyes and the resistance that seemed to finally fall away from them. He moved further into the Saiyan’s space and with a clawed finger lifted Vegeta’s chin effortlessly.

Vegeta went still.

Buu was breathing hard now, though he hadn't exerted himself. It was out of excitement and anticipation. He had been holding something back for so long and now that he was allowing himself this forbidden treat, it was almost overwhelming for him.

 

  

The look Buu gave him then was a look of ownership. It was a look that stated simply that he had every right to lean in and smell Vegeta's neck; he had every right to slide a knee between Vegeta's thighs; he had every right to glide his hand under the prince’s shirt...

"Calm," came Dende's steady voice in his head.

The hand slid down beneath the hem of his pants to his hip...

"Easy, Vegeta..."

Though Vegeta could hear the distant echo of Dende's voice telling him not to fight, he couldn't focus.

The knee between his thighs grazed his sex and Vegeta took in a sharp breath. His fists trembled at his sides.

_He’s…He’s going to--_

“It’s alright, Vegeta,” Dende’s soothed.

“So lovely,” Buu’s fangs glided down his neck.

_Don't you know what he'll do?_

Buu pulled away, examining the Saiyan.

Vegeta realized he'd responded to Dende aloud.

“What was that, Prince?” the mutant eyed him with concern, and lifted a hand to brush against his perspiring forehead.

Vegeta's breathing came forced and his whole body strained to hold in some urge to either fight or flee-- he was not sure now which.

He met Buu's eyes and winced.

“You are always so tense, Vegeta,” Buu was now smiling. As if forgetting the Saiyan’s outburst, he went on conversationally. Through his embarrassment, Vegeta was relieved at least to have postponed more of Buu’s advances,

“Always,” the alien continued. “What can I do to make you more comfortable here? I've emptied the planet. It is all ours. I know a conqueror like yourself can appreciate that.”

“ _Appreciate that_ ” Vegeta gritted out and he strained to keep his face expressionless, remembering Dende’s warning.

Buu's fanged smile broadened, “Well, yes! And we can do the same to the next planet, and the next. Until the whole universe is ours!”

When Vegeta didn't look as excited as he'd expected, Buu's smile faded a little, “Wouldn't you like that?”

There was a time when Vegeta would have liked that very much. That time had long passed however and he wasn't the same Saiyan anymore. Though it stung a bit to admit it, living on Earth had changed the ruthless warrior, softened him.

“I'm fine here.” Vegeta grumbled.

For a moment, Buu only studied the prince with confusion, and suddenly laughed.

“Oh, my contrary Saiyan," he said smiling, "I would be disappointed if you came along quietly.”

There was so much fondness in his voice and his eyes that Vegeta had to look away. But Buu’s hand came back to cup his face. Vegeta realized the mutant was drifting slowly closer.

Vegeta was so tired. So tired. He was pulled from all sides. Suppressing every instinct, every urge, he was hiding in a mask when he should have been fighting. He was a warrior. But this was a battle he could never win. He was hopeless and alone and desperate and tired.

And their lips met.

 

 

Buu let him go.

It was dark now and Bow was watching from the house as the Saiyan flew away.

Vegeta declined to stay with the Buus in their camp and Buu reluctantly and surprisingly allowed it, however with the stipulation that the prince come whenever summoned and never resist him.

Though the Saiyan was gaining distance from the camp, Buu felt that Vegeta was more close than he’d ever been before. Vegeta was his now. There was no more tugging within Buu, no more internal battle. This was right. This was how it was meant to be.

A dark presence at his back reminded him however that he had another, more domestic sort of battle on his hands now.

He turned to the hut and met the dark, disapproving gaze of his fledgling and adviser.

 

 

Vegeta was flying back to the cave.

Dende’s voice had followed him for much of the flight but eventually quieted as if to give Vegeta space. The prince didn’t mind. He wasn’t really hearing much of the message anyway. He  _had_  caught a strange tone behind the words though. Dende had been praising Vegeta for a job well done but there was an odd twinge in his tone. Apologetic almost. The Guardian knew what he was asking of the Saiyan, what Vegeta was doing for him, and it hurt him too.

Vegeta understood. He didn’t need to hear the “sorry” and it would probably just slow him down anyway. It was best to just get the job done with. Complete the mission, they would discuss it after, if at all.

But he still felt sick.

As time went by, Vegeta found that this alternative plan was costing him a great deal more than anyone had predicted. Wishing Kakarot out was looking more appealing by the day.


	16. The Courting (Part One of Two)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The decision to join Buu has been made and now Vegeta has to follow through. As the newest member of the Buu family, what will be expected of the Saiyan prince and for how long will he be able to tolerate Buu's rules?

When Vegeta awoke, his eyes roamed the dark cave. It was mostly bare except for a folded stack of spare clothing, some basic living amenities he'd scavenged from the nearest city, and the four Dragon Balls in the corner.

Every morning since Buu's rise to power, the Saiyan had woken with a start from his sleep by an urgent sense of purpose. This morning was the same. He instantly felt a pulling in him, like he should be doing something. Searching for Dragon Balls, training, _something_. Then when he slowly remembered that the Dragon Balls were no longer part of the mission, as well as _why_ they weren't, Vegeta felt like he could lay back down and close his eyes again.

It had been three days since Vegeta accepted Buu's offer to join him and the mutant, in turn, had let him go. Since then, it'd been three consecutive mornings of waking up with a sense of purpose, experiencing a bitter recollection, and sinking back into a fitful slumber as if the day had lost all promise.

Vegeta hadn't visited the camp since accepting Buu's offer. Buu hadn't given him another deadline, which was the only part of that meeting for which Vegeta was grateful.

It was unexpected and out of nowhere. After all the stress and effort Vegeta had put into avoiding the mutant, Buu had simply let him go.

He still remembered the disorienting last moments of their encounter:

 

Vegeta had been so emotionally drained from stifling his every natural impulse that he didn't fight the embrace. Dende consoled him in his mind as the mutant held the Saiyan's compact frame against himself possessively.

Their contact— the kiss— hadn't lasted long, but when Buu finally broke it, Vegeta was somehow more fatigued than before. He felt disarmed.

"Do you still feel you have no choice here?" Buu had whispered against his lips.

Hidden by the trees next to the lake, it was like a stolen moment. Buu intended to take advantage of their privacy from Bow for however long it would last.

"Between joining you and death?" Vegeta rasped, eyes still closed.

Buu waited.

"Then it's not really a choice." The Saiyan pushed vainly against Buu's chest to give them some distance. Buu let up only a little.

"It _is_ a choice, Vegeta," the mutant urged. "Don't you understand? All I've done here: this hut, this lake, everything— it's all for you? We are at your disposal."

Vegeta looked around the meticulously plotted property, at the grey, rounded hut made of the mutant's cement-like excretion, the lake that Vegeta now knew was carved by some large explosion, and the ominously still planet that had been emptied of its people. The monster had done all these things for _him?_

"What would you have us do?"

Vegeta studied Buu and the sudden naked yearning in his crimson eyes. The mutant was no longer playing the cold, stoic leader for his ever-looming minion. It was just the two of them now, and Buu was laying himself bare for Vegeta's judgment. The desperation in the black and red eyes was almost suffocating.

"Please," Vegeta said, low and hoarse. Buu seemed to need to crane his neck to better hear him. "Let me go," was all Vegeta said. There was no anger, no hate in the small plea. The exhausted Saiyan could hardly bring himself to meet the eyes of the man who'd beaten him so completely.

 

"Alright, Vegeta." Buu said at last. "We will give you time. But trust that we won't wait long for you."

When Vegeta had finally flown away from the plot, he was weary and numb. He was so at odds with himself that he almost felt like wasn't there at all. Like an apparition, he watched the scene from afar as an apathetic and detached third party.

 

 

The freedom afforded him was still a shock to Vegeta now, but ultimately it wasn't really so strange for the mutant to just release him like that.

While Buu had specified no date or time by which Vegeta was expected to return, there was an unspoken understanding, an invisible contract which stated plainly and simply that Vegeta belonged to Buu now. And no matter how distant the Saiyan kept himself, it was still a fact, and Buu was under no obligation to respect his privacy.

It was perhaps this sobering realization (and no small amount of prodding from Dende) that brought Vegeta back to the Buus' camp three days later. 

As he approached the clearing, Vegeta felt the familiar numbness settling into his core, and welcomed it like an old friend.

Buu's smiling face beamed at him through the paneless window of the large hut, and soon after the mutant was greeting him on the lawn.

The hut's other occupant also peered at him from the darkened window, though he did not come out, and Vegeta was not offended.

Buu didn't embrace Vegeta like it looked like he was bursting to do, but instead clapped his hands together and said, "shall we take a trip?" 

Buu's fledgling didn't join them as they flew away from the clearing, and again Vegeta could muster no disappointment over it. The younger and more easily riled mutant didn't seem as pleased with their new union as his maker did. That made two of them.

They traveled to a beach not far from where Vegeta had found the third and fourth Dragon Ball four days earlier.

Vegeta spoke as little as he could get away with. While "unsociable" was quite the understatement for how he was feeling, Dende's warning not to insult the mutant with uncooperativeness stuck at the forefront of his mind.

Incidentally, the young Namekian hadn't said a word since Vegeta landed at the camp. He'd given his customary pep talk that morning and all the while Vegeta was flying to the site, but that was the last the Saiyan had heard from the needling overseer.

The Guardian had warned him that any panic or anxiety could cloud and disrupted telepathic connection the way a storm interfered with a radio transmission, but Vegeta had actually been quite calm all day. It helped that Buu hadn't significantly encroached on his personal space, and certainly hadn't tried to kiss him again. Instead, he simply talked to Vegeta, which came as a great relief to the Saiyan. If speaking to the relentless alien would serve to keep his amorous advances at bay, then he would do that much.

And it wasn't too difficult, really. Buu didn't seem interested at all in talking about what had happened between them in The Grove, nor did he bait the prince with prying questions as he'd done that day. Their banter was light and insubstantial, nothing profound or personal. Truthfully, Vegeta found it almost dull. He was actually surprised when Buu began leading them back to the camp after only a few hours on the beach. Was that all he'd wanted? To stare at the ocean while making innocuous small talk?

They landed at camp and Vegeta didn't see the other mutant. It had become a cautionary habit for Vegeta to scout the area for the fledgling's location every time he crossed the perimeter of the camp. He'd become very wary of the unpredictable mutant. 

Vegeta remained standing in the clearing in front of the hut for a while before he realized he didn't know why. 

Buu looked at him as if he too wondered what Vegeta was still doing there.

"Thank you for joining me today on this adventure," Buu said finally. "I expect you'll be heading back to your dwelling now—though you're welcome to stay..." 

Vegeta didn't respond.

"...I'll see you another time." Buu moved toward the hut without another word.

Vegeta realized then with a stunning clarity that there was really no reason for him to stay any longer. That was all. He flew away quickly, as if the mutant might change his mind and decide that he wanted something more from him after all. Buu didn't change his mind and Vegeta gained distance from the camp without interception.

Vegeta pondered over his unbelievable luck as he flew. At no point during the bizarre outing had Buu teased him or pushed him or even smiled that fanged, lingering smile. The Saiyan had once again emerged unscathed. It seemed almost too good to be true. Could it be a trick?

When he arrived back at his cave, Dende began speaking to him again. As Vegeta tried to decode Buu's uncharacteristically passive behavior, The Guardian assured him that it was all going well and that Vegeta should keep doing exactly what he was doing.

 

 

Vegeta waited another three days before returning to the camp.

Buu sauntered out amiably, and once again the other mutant didn't even acknowledge the Saiyan.

This time, Buu took Vegeta to the remains of an old, gutted stone castle, which Buu revealed to his consort had not been destroyed by himself or his fledgling. Vegeta was surprised. The decrepit castle had apparently stood there for centuries, and used to be the home of some ancient kings and queens of that era. Now it was simply a historic tourist attraction— before Buu had killed all the tourists, anyway. Some of the rooms underground were still well enough intact to explore, and Buu insisted that they do so.

"This is where they kept their dry storage," Buu said excitedly as they passed one of the smaller, windowless rooms. "And here's where the servants slept." He indicated to a slightly larger, similarly windowless room.

"How do you know all this?" Vegeta asked when he couldn't contain the question any longer.

"I find all of these Earth attractions absolutely fascinating. Before we cleared the planet, I took the guided tour probably a hundred times. Bow came as well, of course."

Vegeta tried to picture Buu, all bubbling over with excitement, dragging Bow, brooding and glaring like a teenager, around to all of these bustling tourist traps. Despite himself, the Saiyan grinned at the idea.

"Here's where they kept and tortured the rebels," came Buu's gleeful voice again as he led them past a dank stone room furnished with only a stained and dented wooden table and rusted manacles nailed in the walls. "Incidentally, this was the only room Bow seemed at all interested in. Hm." They moved briskly onward.

While they flew the great distance back to camp, Vegeta realized again that he had survived yet another day. Was this what he should now expect while trapped alone in a world with Buu? Would it not be a life of eternal agony, humiliation, and torment that he'd have to look forward too, but instead one filled with field trips, beach days, and Earth history lessons? If this was what it took to defeat the all-powerful Buu, the indestructible scourge of the Universe, Vegeta thought he could bear it. Perhaps Dende had been right in recommending this course of action.

As he made to leave the clearing in front of Buu's hut however, Buu suddenly stopped him.

"You will return tomorrow," was all he said.

Vegeta hesitated. Since the initial proposal, Buu hadn't given him any deadlines. Instead, he'd let the Saiyan choose, so as not to pressure Vegeta. At least, that's what Dende suspected. Perhaps he'd finally exhausted the mutant's leniency, and the game of cat and mouse was coming to a brutal end.

Restraining the panicked instinct to question or fight, Vegeta settled on a stiff nod and left the camp.

 

 

Upon returning to the cave, Vegeta cursed to himself.

"It's alright. It's only another day," Dende consoled as Vegeta paced the cave, something that was becoming a nightly routine for the both of them.

"It starts with demanding more days but soon he'll be demanding that I stay!"

"He won't do that. He knows it will make you recoil from him and he likes to stay on your good side as much as you like to stay on his."

"Oh, this is preposterous! I can't believe I agreed to go ahead with this half-baked plan. What a fool I am!"

"This is good," said Dende through Vegeta's string of curses. "The more Buu sees of you, the more influence you'll have over him. It will help the transition go faster if you keep spending time together. This is a positive and necessary turn."

Vegeta huffed.

He didn't like the implied consequences of spending even more time around Buu. Still, Dende was very wise, and it wasn't uncommon for the Namekian to see things that the Saiyan couldn't.

Vegeta's doubts didn't last long though. As the days went by and Buu continued to request more time with him, the Saiyan couldn't help noticing a change in the mutant. Buu's face seemed subtly different at each meeting. Vegeta couldn't place exactly how, but the alien features weren't the same as when the Saiyan had first began meeting with Buu. They had softened, warmed. Vegeta wasn't sure if it was that Buu seemed to smile more frequently or if the very structure of his face was actually shifting. Whatever the cause, every day Buu looked less and less like the destructive alien who threatened the universe and more like someone else.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to my second set of eyes, Rush, for reading and editing this chapter. I truly appreciate it!


	17. The Courting (Part Two of Two)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As Buu's intentions become more clear, Vegeta struggles with his increasingly demanding role in the plan. With the fate of the Earth depending on him, can the torn Saiyan do what is needed or will his pride win out in the end?

Atop the jagged cliffs of plunging coasts, through the exotic jungles of equatorial continents, across the diamond sands of uncharted islands, over the vast reefs of blue oceans, Buu took Vegeta.

Most of the places they ventured were completely new to the Prince of Saiyans, and many he had never even heard of. While living on Earth, Vegeta had usually been too busy training his body and maintaining his strength to take much interest in his new planet's vast geography and varying cultures. In fact, his idea of an exotic vacation was traveling to a distant planet, in whose vast geography and varying cultures he could be too busy training to take an interest in as well.

What Buu showed Vegeta over the following weeks was a view of Earth unlike anything the Saiyan had ever seen. These majestic and ancient locations which would, under normal circumstanced, be crawling with hordes of gawking sight-seers with flashing cameras and gaping mouths were now completely barren. Despite the morbid implication of the utter emptiness, Vegeta was glad to not have to deal with the crowds.

Lounging atop the domed roof of a two-hundred-year-old temple in the middle of a desert, Buu's legs grazed against Vegeta's. It was a hot and arid evening as they watched the sun setting over the golden dunes. Vegeta only noticed Buu's thigh leaning against his own once it'd lingered there far outside the perimeters of accidental. He opened his mouth to say something, but when he turned to Buu, he found the pink mutant (more orange now in the hue of the setting sun) already looking at him.

It was a look that made Vegeta close his mouth and turn away again. He returned to staring at the receding sun and shifted his thigh away from Buu's in the least conspicuous way he could so as not to show his discomfort. The two were silent for the rest of the sunset and flight back to camp.

That was the only incident in the weeks that they'd been meeting that Vegeta could recall Buu acting like he wanted something from Vegeta other than just his company. Not since kissing him in the cover of the trees behind Buu's hut had the mutant looked at him with such open longing. But ever since that day, Buu had been so formal, so professional in their interactions that Vegeta was prepared to dismiss the desert incident as an accident, a trick of the fading light. That is, had it not happened again a week later as they were waiting for a geyser to erupt in a national park.

Vegeta had only been able to narrowly avoid the uncomfortable moment when, just as Buu began leaning in, the geyser went off. Relieved though he was for the timely distraction, Vegeta realized that their previously platonic outings had lulled him into a false sense of security around the mutant. These distractions were only temporary setbacks for Buu, and Vegeta would need to mentally ready himself for his unwanted companion's next attempt. As in all things he did, Buu would not be so easily deterred.

More and more on their outings, Buu found reasons to graze against Vegeta, to lean into his personal space. He didn't attack, but every fleeting brush of their hands as they walked, every gentle push at Vegeta's back as Buu guided him along, every lingering gaze, every whisper in his ear made the deliberateness of the mutant's actions more apparent to the wary Saiyan.

Buu's intentions were obvious, along with the impending outcome of all these frequent meetings. Should the formidable creature choose to use force, Vegeta would not be able to fend off his advances. Buu's intimate behavior along with the staggering difference in their strength should have put Vegeta further on edge, but instead it only chipped away at the wearied Saiyan. As Buu pressed him and nudged him and took his arm with an air of ownership and ease, Vegeta gradually resolved to endure it.

When the day did come that Buu cornered Vegeta and pressed the Saiyan down beneath his larger frame, Vegeta didn't fight. Instead, he turned his head and grit his teeth on the numbness, because it was inevitable.

He told himself that he was still in control, that the creature on top of him along with the alien mouth tugging at his ear were only there because Vegeta allowed them. This was just a different kind of battle, and if he just stuck to the plan, then he would emerge the victor. Earth's fate, and perhaps the fate of the universe itself depended on him. By staying focused on that, he would get through this.

He repeated the words to himself like a mantra, but as Buu's eager hands slid his navy blue shirt up to close a humid mouth over an exposed nipple, it became increasingly difficult to believe them.

Buu's thick tongue lapped at Vegeta's goose-pimpled skin and his clawed hands glided down the still, rigid body. Vegeta was flattened on a bench with the mutant above him, barring him with his mass and effortless strength.

A large hand slid to Vegeta's thigh and squeezed hard. The sharp, pearly nails pinched Vegeta's tense flesh, making the Saiyan gasp and arch but nothing more, even as that same hand worked its way under the waistband of his pants.

Vegeta had to stay calm, had to stay pliant. He needed to stay on Buu's good side and keep his trust. He couldn't risk jeopardizing their progress by pushing the mutant away now. That's what Dende would tell him anyway. The Namekian would say in his gentle, soothing voice that Vegeta was doing well and that everything was going to be alright. At the thought of the Guardian, Vegeta's breathing slowed and his muscles relaxed.

Buu pulled away from the flushed and swollen nubs only a moment to wipe away the beads of moisture pooling in the corners of the Saiyan's eyes before leaning in and capturing his slack lips.

Later, as Vegeta was turning to leave the camp, Buu reached out and grabbed his wrist to pull him into a plunging kiss.

"Tomorrow," was all he said when he broke away, and Vegeta left.

 

 

"Still, Vegeta comes and goes as he pleases," came a low voice in the darkened hut.

Buu passed his fledgling with little more than a glance.

"You are too lenient with the Saiyan," Bow said, as Buu retired wordlessly to his own room for the night.

 

 

"Are you alright?" Dende asked delicately. The Guardian's last three attempts at contacting Vegeta had been drowned out in the cacophony of ki blasts and curses.

When Vegeta had returned from Buu's camp, he immediately began setting the canyons ablaze. The landscape erupted with explosions of rock and foliage. It was a wonder he didn't hit his own cave in his frenzied trajectory of blasts

"As if it matters to you, Guardian of Earth," Vegeta muttered, now in the stillness of the cave. He had calmed down from his earlier outburst and now sat quietly against the rock wall, idly picking at his gloves and toeing a Dragon Ball against the dresser.

The cave had become fuller over the past few weeks with the addition of a few household amenities Buu had gifted him with. Because Vegeta refused to live at the camp, the mutant sporadically sent the Saiyan home with a number of odd furnishings. One day, he'd insisted that the disgruntled Saiyan take a mattress with him, leaving Vegeta wondering how the mutant knew he didn't have one.

"What do you mean?" Dende asked, genuinely concerned.

"As long as I comply with Buu and complete the mission, it doesn't make any difference to you what I have to endure." Vegeta flicked some dirt from his glove.

"Vegeta, I don't know why you would say that. It very much makes a difference to me what—"

"As long as the mission is completed, right Namek? Buu can have whatever he wants."

"Vegeta, I've told you, I wouldn't ask this of you if I thought Buu would harm you now."

"No, but what you want me to let him do is far worse," Vegeta's voice rose, "I'm a warrior not a – a whore!"

"Vegeta, I'm only asking you to trust me and to trust your relationship with Go—"

"Don't say his name! It's bad enough that I have to spend every waking hour with the insufferable mutant and see Kakarot's face staring back at me— but the idea that that oaf is behind his behavior too is…"

"It will just take a little more time."

"More time. So you keep telling me." Vegeta rose to his feet and paced the cave. "You saw what he did today! I don't want to think of what he'll do next, given more time."

Dende didn't respond.

"You did see, didn't you?"

There was strained pause and finally Dende said, stiffly, "I saw."

A smile spread on Vegeta's lips and something twisted in his gut. The Guardian hadn't spoken a word the entire day but Vegeta had still known he was there, still felt him watching. His hunch was confirmed.

"What did you think?" Vegeta asked.

"What did I think?" Dende stammered, unprepared for the question and the bating tinge in Vegeta's voice, "I don't understand what you're—"

"What did you think as he was feeling me up? Did you think, 'Good! Now we're getting somewhere!'"

"Vegeta!" Dende gasped and the Saiyan had never heard him sound so unnerved.

"When he had his tongue down my throat and his hands down my pants, were you happy that I was getting in the mutant's good graces? If all this time and work doesn't succeed in pulling Kakarot out, we can at least take comfort in knowing I can buy Buu's lenience with my body!"

"Vegeta, I would never ask you—"

"Maybe he'll let you all come back and use the Dragon Balls to repopulate and we won't even need Kakarot. You can just keep me around so he stays occupied. Chain me up for him to play with whenever he's hit with the urge to destroy something."

"Vegeta, you are the most important part of this plan!"

"I am nothing but a pawn to you. And I've listened to you enough. Feeding your manipulative counsel into my head like a slow poison. You don't really believe that! You're just buttering me up so I'll stay cooperative, stay docile. Today, I laid there as Buu made me his personal lollypop and I didn't fight him. Do you know why?"

Dende gave another weak sound like he was about to answer but Vegeta didn't wait for him.

"I heard your voice in my head telling me to relax, telling me to let him do it- even though you weren't there." The bite in Vegeta's tone had softened, and his voice turned small and almost wondering."I hear your voice even when you aren't there. And I realized then that I've become conditioned to your words… dependent upon you..."

Dende too seemed stunned by the admission and didn't say anything at first.

"I'm on your side, Vegeta," The Guardian finally said.

"You are not!" Vegeta roared back and the cave shook.

"I'm your friend!"

"You would mold me into a tool for your own will! You're no better than Buu!"

Dende's cracking voice gasped through the connection in a way that made Vegeta distantly wonder if he was crying, but he quickly dismissed the thought.

"I will defeat Buu by my means and my means alone," The Saiyan boomed and he felt more steady on his legs then he had in many months. "I will no longer be anyone's puppet. Stay out of my head and out of my way. You have my permission to contact me when Buu is dead."

There was silence then and Vegeta thought he heard shaky breathing before he felt the connection sever completely.

 

Vegeta didn't go back to Buu the next day. He didn't go back the day after that, or the day after that. It was a full two weeks that Vegeta had ignored the camp when Buu came looking for him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again to my beta, Rush! I appreciate your meticulous work!


	18. The End of the Affair

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vegeta fails to return to Buu for two weeks so the mutant takes it upon himself to seek out the Saiyan. He doesn't like what he finds.

  
Buu went alone, but he was never really alone.

Ever since Bow’s conception, the new mutant had been by Buu’s side almost constantly. It was as if they'd never truly split.

Even after Vegeta joined them, Bow was never too far behind. Though the fledgling didn’t accompany them on their adventures, Buu always felt him just out of sight. Buu got the sense that he was waiting for something, watching for the opportune moment.

Buu didn’t think Vegeta ever noticed Bow following them and he didn’t ever think to tell him either. He could see Bow made the Saiyan uneasy and he didn’t want to put the already guarded man any further on edge.

Buu never instructed Bow one way or another when it came to following after or staying behind, and he never reprimanded him when he always chose to follow. It was a mutual understanding that neither brought up afterward nor ever felt the need.

It turned out that very little needed to be discussed between them. The two mutants just had a sense of each other, like twins, or like starfish. Yes, Buu thought, more like starfish. The marine invertebrates reproduce by splitting from fragments of themselves that would go on to develop into separate independent organisms. All from a little fragment. Bow had grown into a very different being now but there was no erasing that they had once shared a mind.

So, when Vegeta didn’t return for two weeks straight, the senior mutant didn’t need to explain anything to the other. Bow just knew. Likewise, when Buu finally left to seek out the Saiyan himself, he didn’t need to say where he was going.

Though Bow didn’t fly with him, Buu knew he wouldn’t be too far behind, that he would stay just out of sight as if waiting for something, watching for the opportune moment.

Buu wondered if it would be today.

 

 

Vegeta’s days slid smoothly back into a comfortable routine of training, eating, and sleeping. It was like home to him, easy and familiar. With no pressing missions or prying eyes, he didn’t have to do anything other than what came natural, and he didn’t have to be anyone other than himself. Humans and Namekians may be able to get by on psychological games and disguises, but that wasn’t for a Saiyan. Battle was in his nature, in his blood. This was the way it was meant to be and he was a fool for suppressing his instincts for so long. Now everything would be right again.

The only downside to returning to form was that the nightmares came back too. Something about the days spent in Buu's company had kept the dark dreams of thorny forests and twisted reeves at bay. Since he'd stopped meeting Buu, the dreams had gradually crept back into his nights as if they'd been waiting to get him alone. He didn't sleep full, restful nights anymore but he trained harder for it in his waking hours, hoping to exhaust his physical and mental faculties to the point he wouldn't be able to form dreams . The nightmares persisted, but he felt his training improved for his efforts.

Every day was a steady build and he felt himself surpassing his old peaks already. He’d finally recovered fully from his battles with the Buus. Although he hated when he was forced to take the senzu beans, he couldn’t deny their convenience. Now, having lost the little senzu garden with The Lookout, healing was a slow, gradual process. Fortunately, the near-fatal beatings at the hands of the Buus had earned him a substantial boost in power that was well worth the wait. He was glad to have gained at least one good thing from the defeats.

Vegeta’s routine was also good for his mind. He’d found if he wasn’t fully employed at every moment, his thoughts wandered. Training and planning and hunting for his meals were effective ways to stay focused and present, but in the lull of the day, the brief moments before falling asleep or when he stared into the fire waiting for his meal to cook through, memories caught up to him.

Sometimes his thoughts trailed to Dende and the long talks they shared when they were still speaking; sometimes to Trunks and how quickly Vegeta used to push the child away; and sometimes-- when he couldn’t help it-- to Kakarot and that grating smile. Most common, though, were visions of the days spent in the company of Buu that filled his idle moments.

Vegeta would be stretching in the shade after a full day of training when suddenly his surroundings would melt away and he’d be standing beneath a cherry blossom tree in an ancient castle courtyard with Buu whispering the history of the grounds into his ear. Or, Vegeta would be bathing in the lake and suddenly his mind would sweep him off to the day when Buu took him to an aquatic theme park. It was emptied of both people and aquatic attractions, having all been eaten by Buu and Bow in their indiscriminate scourge of the planet. What was left were empty exhibits bearing plaques regaling the exotic origins and habits of the creatures that where no longer displayed. Buu had most of the plaques memorized and liked to quiz the annoyed Saiyan.

Vegeta would roll his eyes before shaking the memories.

Buu wasn’t always the monster who had unraveled Vegeta in the thorny grove after absorbing Goku. Ever since splitting himself into two beings and beginning this strange relationship with the Saiyan, Buu's appearance and behavior had changed.

Physically, it was more of a subtle shift. His once lumbering gait settled into an amiable sort of stride. His brow eased and eyes widened, making him appear to beam more than leer. Overtime, what were the most daunting features of Buu’s alien physique appeared less prominent, giving way to a more natural shape. The gaping pores that peppered his gleaming skin and were known to flare and spout steam in his fits of rage, seemed to contract from disuse and went unnoticed. His neck, once thick and almost walrus-like, molded into a more proportional fit. Even the clashing pink of Buu’s skin had seemed, on some days, faded to a more natural hue.

Vegeta couldn’t tell if he’d just grown used to the mutant and dismissed bold features that would otherwise be jarring, or if Buu’s appearance was truly changing. While elusive Buu’s physical transformation was, Vegeta could be certain at least that something was drastically different about his behavior.

Some days, Buu was bubbly and excitable and dragged Vegeta around like a happy child. Other days, he was calm and overtaken by long periods of silence, during which he only stared serenely at Vegeta as if communicating some profound message through his eyes. Some days, he was pushy and invasive and touched Vegeta more than he liked. Other days, he was patient and gentle, guiding Vegeta along like a caring guardian. On all days however, The Buu from the grove made no appearance, and it was almost easy to forget that the Buu guiding him around landmarks and aquariums, who tried to coax out Vegeta's thoughts on the evolution of the platypus, was the same person.

Vegeta would sometimes give himself a headache trying to make the two connect in his head before giving in to frustration and shoving the thought away entirely.

It was the baffling transformation that occupied Vegeta's thoughts now as he idly wrapped his battered fists in tape before pulling his gloves on over them. Next were the boots and then he’d be ready for his morning training session. He shook his head of the fogginess from another restless night and vowed to push hard today in spite of it. Today’s session would be beneath the comforting cover of the forest on the other side of Kent City. The forest was on a mountainside and covered in trails from frequent hikers. He had no intention of using the trails, but he found the tranquil ambiance a decent enough backdrop to his work out.

Once, Buu had taken him hiking through a mountainous forest in the North. Vegeta had never gone hiking in his life and never understood why anyone would need to pack a bag and map a course just to take a walk, like it was some sort of event. The things Humans hyped up were ridiculous. He'd refused to call the walk anything but just that and spent the whole day frowning over folded arms until Buu grabbed him suddenly and threw him into a lake. Vegeta's cheeks heated as he thought back to the mutant laughing uproariously before jumping in cannonball-style after him.

Extracting himself from the memory, Vegeta turned in preparation to head out.  He froze in mid-stride upon noticing the tall figure standing in the entryway of the cave.  So silent and still was he that if not for the bright pink color of his skin, Buu might have blended into the walls.

Vegeta had no idea how long the mutant had been standing there, and hadn’t sensed his approach at all. He could have been there all morning, silently watching Vegeta carry out his steady, deliberate routine. How could he have missed him? Vegeta cursed his wandering mind again.

Buu's pointed stare was not trained on him for very long, to Vegeta's fleeting relief. His reddish eyes were soon pulled to something behind Vegeta. The frozen Saiyan knew what it was without having to look. 

“Of course,” Buu said and the words sounded hollow in the still room.

Vegeta said nothing. There was no covering it up now.

Buu's eye's seemed reluctant to leave the captivating Dragon Balls in the far corner of the room but eventually he set them back on his silent host.

“But how did you manage…” he said, more to himself. 

That he wasn’t shouting or preparing to attack was alarming to Vegeta, but not near as alarming as when the mutant slowly smiled.

“So The Guardian lives,” Buu said.

Vegeta scrambled for a plan. Torn between darting for the exit and darting for the Dragon Balls, he could barely focus.

“Do you mean to use those against me, Vegeta?”

In the silence, Buu must have come to his own conclusion.

“I see,” he said.

From the way Buu’s posture slumped and shrank, Vegeta thought he almost looked sad. It was a ridiculous idea of course, that the scourge of the planet could get hurt feelings. Yet, as Vegeta examined the silent, downcast intruder, he found himself wondering if Buu was waiting for an explaination. He didn't know why he thought that, Buu's reaction just created a guilty strain in the room.

Finally, the mutant straightened to his full height and looked up, expression hard and vacant.

“So you were going to wish my destruction with the Dragon Balls.” It was less of a question than a conclusion and Buu nodded to himself as surely as if Vegeta had confirmed it.

Vegeta, of course, had no intention of using the Dragon Balls, but he didn't feel he owed the destructive tyrant any explanation either. Now that he’d made clear what side he’d chosen, what did it matter if he'd offended Buu? He hoped he'd hurt the bastard.

Though Vegeta intended to wear his defiance to whatever end this confrontation wrought, from the back of his mind crept a looming sense of dread.

“Well that settles it, doesn't it,” Buu said and though he didn't move an inch, his power began to swell around him, quickly filling the small space of the cave and threatening its walls. Vegeta braced himself for the attack that was sure to come.

However, Buu didn’t charge him. After some minutes of only watching Vegeta with an unreadable gaze, the mutant’s power slowly settled and the cave went still again. Without another word, Buu turned and left.

Vegeta remained in a defensive crouch even after Buu was gone from his line of sight and his energy faded from detection. Unprepared for this turn of events, he wondered if it was some sort of trick. He felt a brief urge to call after the mutant, almost feeling stinted out of a battle.

The passageway remained dark however. Buu had really left. There was no attack and no explanation. He hadn't even taken the...

Vegeta’s eyes darted to the corner to make sure that Buu hadn't used his superior speed to hoodwink the Saiyan. But no, the Dragon Balls were still there, gleaming and untouched. Vegeta gave a small sigh of relief and relaxed a little. Then it occurred to him that that too might be a part of the trick.

He recounted their confrontation from the beginning. The whole encounter was baffling from start to finish, Vegeta couldn't pick just one thing that seemed out of place from any other. Vegeta hadn't been left so disoriented after an interaction with Buu since the mutant had attempted to kiss him at Capsule Corporation and then reacted as though Vegeta had perpetrated it.

The Saiyan could only wait there, tense and confused.

If ever there was a time he needed Dende’s guidance, it was then.

 

 

Not far above the cave, Buu too was stuck. He hovered there, stewing in his own incredulity.

After all that he'd done for Vegeta... After everything. The only reason the Saiyan was still alive was because Buu had been merciful enough to leave him that way. Buu couldn't count the times he'd had ample opportunity to kill him, eat him, absorb him-- and every reasonable part of him had told him he should-- but still he let him go.

It was infuriating. Buu wanted to scream and his chest heaved from the struggle to contain it. 

Vegeta wanted him dead. He was a foolish, blind creature! How could he dismiss all of Buu's courtesies like that? The gifts, the time, the protection-- the _trust._  All of these, Buu had given Vegeta freely. 

The ungrateful Saiyan needed punishment. He needed correction. 

Bow had been right all along, Buu was too lenient. Vegeta needed to see that without Buu's protection, he was dead. Without Buu's kindness, Vegeta's beloved planet would be reduced to ash, and replaced by a world of endless agony and torment.

He would have to be shown.

 

 

An answer to Vegeta’s suspicions finally came in the form of the sound of booted footsteps and the nearing of a familiar energy at the cave’s entrance.

So the mutant had returned to finish what he'd started. Vegeta smiled grimly, but when he turned, it wasn't Buu he saw at the entrance at all.

“What are you, like his apprentice?” Vegeta sneered, finding his voice more easily this time. “What’s your name again? Wait, wait. It's Jr. isn't it?”

“I would mind your mouth, Saiyan,” Bow replied, voice deeper and more coarse than his maker’s.

After the baffling encounter with Buu, the sudden appearance of the mutant fledgling came as more of an annoyance than a threat to Vegeta, who now only wanted to be left alone. He needed to digest Buu’s behavior and find how it would affect his plans.

 “Or what? Gonna tell on me to Daddy? As I recall, you're the runt. He gave you everything he didn't need. If I hadn't been so drained from training last we fought, the outcome would have been sorely different. I'll bet I could crush you under my boot heel without even ascending. Now run along, I’m busy.”

As Vegeta turned away from the second intruder, he was caught by a blunt force and thrown back into the far rock wall.

He shook his head to recover from the blow. When he looked up, he saw the blurry shadow of the fledgling mutant moving nearer and nearer from the mouth of the cave.

“As I was saying,” the mutant continued in his groaning voice, “I would watch your mouth.” He lifted Vegeta up by the neck and slammed him against the cave wall.

The unprepared Saiyan was grunting and kicking and clawing against the rubbery hands securing him but couldn’t break free. Apparently the fragment of Buu’s power that comprised his inferior half was a big one.

“I'm not supposed to kill you. I can hurt you very badly,” the young mutant suggested, leaning in so close that Vegeta could smell ash and rot on his breath. 

“But I won't do that either. However, I can motivate you to stay in line.”

Vegeta had been careless again. With Buu always keeping his rambunctious younger half on a tight leash, it was easy for Vegeta to forget he was a threat. Now it seemed the leash had been cut.

Vegeta's eyes flashed as Bow's attention turned to the corner of the room.

“You mean to use those Dragon Balls.”

It was no more a question than when Buu had asked it, and Vegeta didn't answer this time either.

With one waxy hand, the deceptively powerful mutant fixed Vegeta's arms above his head in a dead lock and with each leg secured Vegeta’s against the cave wall. His other arm extended  to the far corner of the room and easily gathered up all four Dragon Balls in one elastic grip.

“Now I have them,” Bow teased, brandishing the gleaming orbs in Vegeta's face, “what were you going to do with these?”

“None of your damn business,” Vegeta spat, trying to twist his limbs free of the unrelenting grip. “Why don't you fuck off. I think your daddy's calling.”

Bow eyed Vegeta boredly and didn't seem to care whether he answered the question or not.

 “I have an idea,” he said, rolling the Dragon Balls methodically in his hand, “I have ...an idea.” The corner of his mouth cocked lazily upward in an unsettling smile.

 


	19. Bow Unleashed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bow gets to have fun.

Vegeta groaned, shaking the grogginess from his head and flexing his aching wrists.

His binds were unyielding globs of living pink flesh that engulfed both hands to the wrist and both feet to the ankle. Stretched from floor to ceiling like a living column, he could only watch the predatory mutant circle him leisurely, pacing in and out of his line of sight.

Bow hadn’t said anything or struck him again, and had met every one of Vegeta’s snarling attempts to bait him with unflinching disinterest.

Vegeta had tried again to call Bow 'weak'; barking that he was a second-hand hodgepodge of scraps Buu couldn’t find a use for, but after the quick work Bow had made of wrestling him into his current binds, the words had sounded hollow, even to his own ears.

The only indication that Bow was even registering his taunts was a small but dazzling glint in the black wells of the mutant’s eyes that seemed to spark with excitement every time Vegeta opened his mouth.

He tried not to let it unsettle him. He wasn’t sure yet that there was anything to be unsettled about. Sure, the newest of the two Buus might have used the element of surprise to gain a temporary advantage, but if he was going to kill Vegeta, why hadn’t he done it? The only thing Bow had done since arriving was surprise him with a stunning blow and restrain him. It was cheap and Vegeta wouldn’t allow himself to feel threatened by the junior-grade move, nor by the way he prowled around now, regarding him as one might a carcass to be flayed.

“Freak,” Vegeta called to the mutant. “I have an itch.”

Bow didn’t respond but continued his slow, easy stroll, never taking his eyes off of the bound Saiyan.

Vegeta wished he would stop that. He wished he would stand in one place and not stare at him with those still, unblinking eyes. Above all, he wished he would say something, tell him to shut up, strike him, anything to break this maddening silence.

Bow only kept up his casual stroll, giving off the vexing impression that he had all the time in the world.

Vegeta hated that the inferior mutant’s quiet way was actually getting under his skin. The longer Bow kept up his cryptic pace, the more anxious the Saiyan became.

Despite maintaining that he still had the psychological upper hand, Vegeta found he couldn’t hold the mutant’s penetrating gaze for long before having to break away in a cold sweat.

He’d never been in the company of the younger of the two Buus for this long. On the few occasions he’d found himself in such close proximity with the fledgling mutant, he was usually too busy trying to defend himself against an attack or fleeing to take any real stock of his appearance. Now that he didn’t have a choice, he wondered if the real reason he’d never liked looking at Bow was because it stirred too many memories.

In the same way Buu bore a haunting resemblance to Goku, Bow’s form and demeanor conjured vivid flashes of the other four warriors absorbed that day.

Bow was leaner than Buu, still tall but more lanky than bulky in a way that reminded Vegeta vaguely of Gohan, until he stopped that train of thought. Bow’s posture was a youthful slouch, but he moved with a smooth confidence—no, a cockiness. Vegeta wondered how much of Trunks was behind it and then stopped himself again.

He couldn’t think about that. Dende had always said he shouldn't blame those who Buu had absorbed for the cruelties that were Buu’s alone. Still, the mischievous glint in Bow’s eyes and that crooked grin reminded him so much of a troublesome young boy he once knew that it ached to look at him.

“Do you think I’m like him,” came a cool even voice behind him, startling Vegeta out of his thoughts and making him feel like he’d been caught. “Like Buu,” the mutant clarified.

With some difficulty, Vegeta pushed the lavender-haired young boy from his mind and watched the mutant saunter back into his line of sight.

His jaw tightened at the sound of the fledgling’s deep monotone.

Where Buu’s voice would bubble and leap to meet his bouncing moods, Bow’s remained level and subdued and almost seemed to drawl.

“Yes,” Bow went on languidly, tilting his head as if Vegeta had made some valid point worth considering. “We come from the same mold, but I think you’ll find our methods very… different.”

Bow moved in so close that Vegeta’s breath caught as much from surprise as to keep from smelling the bitter, smoky scent of the mutant.

“He liked to watch you crumble beneath your own body’s need. But  _I_  …” Bow’s red eyes danced over Vegeta’s face, taking in every stifled twitch and strain beneath the stoic mask. “I’m going to have fun regardless.”

A broad smile spread across Bow’s lips. It was the most wildly happy Vegeta had seen the normally subdued mutant since the day he’d leveled The Lookout.

The Saiyan felt the sweat beading over his skin and knew it was doing nothing for his efforts to look undaunted.

Although he doubted very much he was getting out of this with just a good old-fashioned beating, there was an evident game being played. He would have to tread carefully while he figured out what Bow was up to.

“There's something in you he sees,” Bow said, wandering eyes drifting subtly downward before setting on his mouth. “Something…inside.”

Before Vegeta could even recoil, the mutant lunged for his mouth, his liquefied arm surging between parted lips and sending the Saiyan hurling from his confines with the blunt impact. The stunned man hit the ground as the amorphous stream of Bow’s flesh rushed down his throat.

Bow’s arm was plunging into him so fast it was a pink blur. Vegeta couldn't gag, he couldn't scream--he could barely make a sound as his mouth and throat were flooded. It felt like a fire hose directed at his head. His mouth was held wide open by the relentless onslaught, while his tongue pressed against the underside of Bow's arm, unable to push it out.

“Let’s see if we can find it,” Bow said, appearing over him.

With his mouth pulled unnaturally wide around the thick intrusion, Vegeta could do nothing but scream up at the mutant with his eyes, arms grasping wildly at his expanding throat. He felt his head tilt backward and body arch in an involuntary effort to minimize obstruction to the arm as it coursed unstoppably through him, striking home in his belly.

Distantly, it occurred to him that he couldn’t breathe. With his throat stuffed and esophagus held gaping open in constant use, his wind pipe was being blocked off. He couldn’t inhale.

Bow’s arm suddenly stopped feeding into him. Vegeta felt its disconcerting mass molding to the shape of his stomach. The coursing pain in his throat eased greatly now that the arm had gone still, but the tender lining continued to throb like it’d been scraped raw. Soon even that dull pain was pushed to the back of his mind however, as his body’s need for oxygen moved glaringly to the forefront.

Did Bow realize that Saiyans needed air? Vegeta couldn’t speak to tell the idiot. He tried to bite down on the thick length of arm wedged between his teeth, but his jaw was pulled unnaturally wide and he was already losing strength from the oxygen deprivation.

Then Bow’s arm began to move again. It was retracting from his throat. Vegeta thought with relief that Bow would remove it at last, but then it stopped moving again.

After a second’s pause, Bow thrust back in, hitting the pit of Vegeta’s stomach with a disgusting lurch.

Then he retracted a little, paused again, and thrust back in. Bow did this repeatedly, building up to a steady in-and-out rhythm, and it slowly dawned on Vegeta that Bow was fucking his throat.

Through his dimming vision, the grounded Saiyan could just make out Bow’s face beaming down at him from the other end of his elongated arm.

Then his limbs twitched weakly and his eyes rolled.

Before the last spot of light faded from his vision, Vegeta was jerked to full consciousness as he felt what he was sure was his stomach being ripped from his mouth.

Vegeta’s hearing came back first, as he heard a faraway sound of his own ragged coughing. Then, feeling returned as he faintly detected something brushing against the side of his face.

“You’re crying, Saiyan. Was that rough?”

Lastly his vision slowly returned to him, but it was still hazy and he had to blink away the tears to clearly make out his surroundings.

There were several minutes of agonized coughing before his brain got the message that he’d stopped choking and wasn’t dying. His heart wasn’t convinced though, and pounded away in his chest in an inconsolable hysteria.

“It’s a nice cave.” Bow commented, taking a moment while Vegeta caught his breath to regard the moderately sized dwelling. “Bears?”

Vegeta swallowed hard, reacquainting his body with the action, before slowly shaking his head.

“Gray bats.”

“Do they taste good?” Bow must have assumed Vegeta had eaten them all before claiming the cave.

The Saiyan tried to shake his head again. “M-migratory,” he croaked. When he’d first arrived, he’d seen the leftover fur and bones, and only learned later at an exhibit with Buu that the subspecies of bat had all vacated the area for the season.

Bow regarded the information with a thoughtful hum, then thrust his arm down Vegeta’s throat again, filling his gullet and cutting off his air.

Vegeta could only lie there and take it as best he could. As his diaphragm convulsed, throat fluttering helplessly, Bow watched with a gleam of fascination in his eyes, drinking in the Saiyan's muffled protests.

Bow continued to play with Vegeta's body in this way for some time, plunging into his mouth without warning and steadily fucking his throat with relentless strokes. More terrible yet, he began deliberately prolonging every instance, leaving his arm in Vegeta's stomach just a little longer each time, experimenting to see how far he could push the limits of the Saiyan's resilience. He made a game of it, waiting until Vegeta was on the cusp of losing consciousness before pulling out completely and permitting the Saiyan a moment to recover. With each succession, Vegeta felt more sure that he would die from the cruel treatment, yet time and time again he was jerked back to life, hacking and heaving, by the agonizing extraction of Bow's arm. 

“I think I’m beginning to get it,” Bow said, after he’d retracted his arm for a number Vegeta had completely lost track of.

Vegeta’s chest rose and fell in shaky, shallow breaths as the room drifted and danced around him. Even the passage of air felt coarse over his battered throat. Swallowing was stabbing agony.

“What Buu sees, I mean.”

Vegeta turned his head slightly to spit out some blood and stomach bile.

“You just don’t give up.”

 As far as Vegeta could see, he didn’t have much of a choice, but maybe Bow had expected him to beg for mercy.

With a little effort, the wearied Saiyan licked his cracked and swollen lips and rasped a single word: “ _Saiyan_ ,” he said, as if no more explanation was needed.

Bow gave a low, appreciative hum and allowed his attention to gravitate around the room while he waited for Vegeta to catch his breath so he could suffocate him again.

Vegeta was so weakened from the repeated asphyxiation, Bow didn’t need to confine him where he lay. His body tingled and twitched distantly like a separate entity from himself.

In his wavering vision, Vegeta could just make out the inexorable little smile on the mutant’s lips.

How much longer until Bow lost interest in this sick game? 

Normally Vegeta would be fighting tooth and nail against the mutant, but Bow kept cutting off his oxygen, sapping the strength he needed to initiate an attack. This slow, cyclical torture was warping his mind.

He'd underestimated Bow and the extent of his sadism.  It was obvious that the younger mutant didn't share his maker's affection for the Saiyan; did not stare at him with eyes filled with the same visceral longing.  The exuberance Bow displayed throughout the ordeal gave Vegeta reason to believe that this torment could continue all day before he'd grow bored of it.  Perhaps once he finally did, Bow would choose to simply leave his arm embedded in Vegeta's esophagus for the last and final time and watch the life fade from his eyes. While Bow had claimed he wasn't allowed to kill him, Vegeta wouldn't put it past the impulsive mutant to ignore the order in favor of a whim.

Most likely, however, it wouldn't be so easy.

This wasn't random; it was punishment for defying Buu.  Vegeta knew that, and suspected that this was all building up to something far worse.  

Somehow he had to turn the situation around.  He hadn't spent his days training just to endure a repeat of the Grove. Fighting Bow was his only chance.

It was improbable that straight-up demanding a fight from Bow would suffice, but supposing that Bow really didn't lust for Vegeta as Buu did, perhaps the rowdier mutant could be goaded into combat.

He needed to make a move while he still had the strength.

As Bow poised his arm for the next round Vegeta spoke up.

“Do it then,” he croaked, even as his throat protested.

Bow paused, regarding him with little more than his usual mild interest.

“You say you're n-not like Buu,” Vegeta said through wheezing breaths. “But you're just as sick. Go ahead and do it, f-freak. You're just like him.” He wanted to sting the insufferably composed mutant with the only thing he had left—words.

“Do what, Saiyan?” Bow asked calmly. He studied the slight, sprawled figure, truly curious.

“No more of these games. I'm bored of them.” Vegeta pushed himself with noticeable difficulty up onto his elbows. “Just…go ahead and get it done with.”

“Get what done with?”

Vegeta bared his teeth and hissed impatiently through pummeled lips. If his hunch was correct and this Bow really wasn’t like Buu, then there might be another way out of this nightmare. He broke through the last barrier of his reserve.

“Fuck me,” Vegeta grunted, ignoring the pain to both his throat and pride. “You foul, disgusting creature. I already know that's what you want.” The words were venom, and they stung Vegeta as well.

Bow’s face was an unreadable mask.

“It’s what you wanted when we fought last, w-wasn’t it?” he rasped, forcing the corners of his mouth to curl upward. “I saw the way you were looking…I know what you wanted. But Daddy was there…w-wouldn’t let you.” He coughed loud and painfully before continuing through blood- smattered lips. “He’s not here now…come on. You want to be like Buu… Fuck his toy?”

The mutant didn’t flinch and Vegeta heard his own hoarse voice rising in desperation.

“Fuck me then!” He spat, the fake leer falling away. “That's what your coward of a maker did. And that's what you're going to do because you're just like him. You're no warrior!”

Vegeta needed to provoke this more volatile Buu into fighting him if he had a hope of getting out of this with some semblance of his pride intact. If it came to a battle of strength, there was always a chance he would lose, but at least he could get out of this beaten rather than broken.

Bow only stared down at the Saiyan, who, despite the searing glower and fierce words, was gleaming with sweat.

The silence dragged on and Vegeta felt his words losing their edge.

“You and Dende must have become close,” Bow said, turning his head to a far corner of the cave as if distracted by something there.

Vegeta was so unprepared for the question, he only blinked for a moment.

“W-what?”

“The Dragon Balls,” Bow said thoughtfully. “He must have contacted you when he escaped the blast to inform you that he lived.”

Vegeta didn’t know where this was going and felt the surge of wrath that had propelled him earlier slipping away.

“Have you two been keeping in touch?” The mutant tossed him a coy glance and Vegeta felt his heart rate pick up again. “You must trust him deeply.”

Perhaps the oxygen deprivation from earlier was inducing hallucinations, because suddenly the cave was beginning to twist and distort around him. Shadows deepened, and he felt as if he was somewhere familiar, somewhere with tall, overhanging trees that blocked out the sunlight and smothered the breeze.

At the heart of the bleak scene, Bow’s form rippled and swelled.

Vegeta could only watch in horror as the mutant’s skin began to thrash and quake like the water surface above a piranha attack.

After a moment, the massive bubbling blob shrank and calmed and Bow was nowhere to be seen.

Vegeta squinted up through the faint electric light to see a robed figure of deep green skin with pointed ears and two slender antennae.

“Is that what you want,” the figure said.

Vegeta’s mouth twitched and his stomach churned. It was the gentle, level voice just as he remembered it. It was the same voice that had been gone from his mind for two weeks. Although his imagination had done its best to fill the hollow left in the Guardian’s absence, nothing came close to the solid, breathing being standing before him now. 

He tried to crawl away, to drag himself backward on shaky elbows, but the dense weight of his limp body proved too cumbrous in his feeble state.

Instead he tried to look away, to shield himself from the horror before him.

The Dende creature stepped smoothly forward, and through Vegeta’s delirious panic, he thought for a flash of an instant he saw something odd in the movement.

He couldn’t be pulled down this horrific spiral again. The cave was getting dark, or maybe it was his own failing vision. He thought he heard the subtle rustling of dead leaves and the snap of twigs. He was falling fast and needed to stabilize himself.

Remembering something, Vegeta suddenly strained his focus on the creature’s eyes. He was not near as mentally worn down as the day in the grove and reality wasn’t the wavering, elusive thing it was then. Furthermore, he was certain that nothing this Bow would do to him could possibly rattle him as thoroughly as losing his son and comrades then enduring the rape and torment from the hijacked body of his life-long rival all in one day. Still, as a grounding tool, it would be a small comfort in this bleak moment if Vegeta could just see Bow’s black and red eyes shining out through Dende’s skin.

Vegeta choked off a gasp.

It seemed the fledgling mutant had learned from his master’s mistakes. The eyes were warm and bright and all Namekian, without even a trace of the treacherous mutant beneath.

“Is that what you really want, Vegeta,” the creature repeated, and with a lazy kick, knocked Vegeta’s knees apart. “Me to _fuck_ you.”

Vegeta bit back a snarl and tried again to crawl away, but his limbs were still weak and tingling as life slowly trickled back into them.

Vegeta was thankful at that moment that his vision was still hazy from the most recent near-blackout. Everything was covered in a thin layer of gauze that muted small details like the tears in the pale and maroon robe and the subtle way the Namekian’s antennae twitched when he was intently focused on something.

 If he wouldn’t be able to stop what was coming, at least he wouldn’t have to watch as another ally was warped into his personal nightmare.

Yet, as Vegeta turned his dizzy head, he found his eyes wouldn’t follow, caught by what was transpiring before him.

Dende was undressing.

With a small shrug, the simple robe fell to the ground and all that covered the young Guardian was a plain pair of Namekian trousers.

For as long as he’d known Dende, Vegeta had never seen him so exposed. He was more muscular than the Saiyan would have guessed. Vegeta’s eyes followed the angles of the toned physique of the young man he’d come to know and trust, who seemed more grown now than ever before.

In the muted light of the cave, he could have been a younger Piccolo. He was all broad shoulders and lean muscle and his face-- _that look_ , Vegeta thought, and had to squint through his still-foggy vision. It wasn’t right. The serene wisdom he’d come to associate with the young guardian was there yet somehow off. His features were the same but seemed disproportionate and misplaced.

Had it been so long since he’d seen Dende? Why did he look so strange now? Was it his imagination that had skewered his memory of The Guardian over the months they’d been apart or was Bow’s treatment causing him to hallucinate?

Before he could place what was different, a long, serpentine shadow emerged from behind Dende’s back and descended to wrap around Vegeta’s neck.

The tentacle was the same green as the Namekian’s skin but felt waxy and elastic as it encircled him. It squeezed, not enough to strangle him but enough to secure its hold as it dragged him up so he was inches above the ground. His arms rose feebly to grasp the tentacle and to take some of the strain of his full weight off his neck.

It was happening all over again.

Vegeta’s breath quickened in his chest and he could feel his pulse in his ears.

He’d been too slow, too weak, and now it was going to happen again.

It didn’t have to be the same. He could grit his teeth and keep his head this time. He swallowed and forced himself not to look away, not to cower. He couldn’t show Bow how horrified he was. The twisted mutant would only feed off of his distress.

The Dende-puppet took another step forward, and that’s when Vegeta caught it.

His movement. It was wrong somehow. Dende didn’t lumber like that. He was slow and even-footed.

Vegeta stopped trying to stare through Bow and instead looked searchingly at the mutant now standing within inches of him.

This was not Dende. Not Piccolo either, though similar. But why?

When it struck him all at once, he burst into painful, choked laughter.

The triumphant sneer that had seemed misplaced even on the face of a fake Dende, faltered slightly.

“Something funny,” Bow asked in Dende’s gently prodding tenor.

Vegeta squinted down at the mutant a moment before bursting into another round of hacking laughter. “You have his voice right at least,” he managed between fits.

His abused throat cried out in stabbing pain but he didn’t care. He intended to enjoy this fully while he could.  The mutant’s misstep was just too good to pass up. He couldn’t believe he didn’t see it before.

Buu had never absorbed Dende, and by the time Bow might have had the chance, Dende had fled the planet. So, neither mutant had an exact biology of The Guardian in his stores. Unlike Buu, who’d managed to imitate Goku down to the last strand of hair, Bow had no reference for his subject aside from the collective memories of those he _had_ absorbed, and scraps borrowed from Piccolo’s Namekian genealogy.

The result was this too-broad, sharp-featured, heavy-footed, vaguely Piccoloesque, cheap Dende knock-off. All in all, not Dende. Not by a longshot.

Bow blinked, and took a step back. The disoriented look on the poorly-crafted face of Dende only fueled another round of hacking fits from Vegeta.

“Was that your plan?” Vegeta barked. “Don the form of a trusted ally and torture me? How original. I see Buu didn’t skimp on creativity when he transferred your personality traits.”

Bow’s brow furrowed.

“You think I would fall for that again?” Vegeta snarled ferally. “Why don’t you go home, leave the psychological warfare to the adults?”

Bow watched him through unamused eyes that clouded over with black. Soon, red irises emerged in the dark depths, and the rest of Bow’s natural form followed after.

As Vegeta heaved more roars of laughter, Bow’s tentacle grip tightened around his neck, silencing him.

Vegeta was able to utter a choked gasp before he was slammed onto his back, making a sizable crater in the ground.

More gummy globs like the ones that had held him stretched from ceiling to floor rushed to bind his wrists to the ground. His legs, which had been thrown over his head from the impact, were quickly bound there by the ankles. With only his head and upper back holding his weight, and his lower body curled up over him, he looked like a contortionist practicing a difficult stretch.

Bow was quick to act as well, and appeared over Vegeta, staring down at the Saiyan’s mortified snarl between the splayed legs.

As quickly as unsheathing a sword, Bow whipped his pink arm into a new shape. From between his thighs, Vegeta could see what looked like a thick, curved blade, extending from the bend of Bow’s elbow to the length of his would-be forearm.

With his ankles pinned above his head and ass jutting up vulnerably, the idea occurred to the prone Saiyan that Bow was going to shove the large blade directly into him. In his airy, weightless state, he could hardly bring himself to defend against it.

Instead of thrusting the blade straight downward however, Bow, with an almost graceful precision, angled the razor tip and sliced open the seat of Vegeta’s pants with one swooping stroke.

Vegeta flinched, anticipating splitting pain but only feeling the brush of cool air against his bare skin. Evidently, Bow had cut through his briefs as well.

Bow eyed the mounds of skin unveiled before him. Doubled over with his cheeks pulled wide and concealing nothing, Vegeta was at Bow’s complete disposal.

The Saiyan felt his face burning from the feeling of being so utterly on display. When at last he was able to bring himself to look up, he didn’t find what he’d expected.

When he’d taunted and baited Bow to use him the way Buu had, he was gambling that it would incite the young mutant into fighting him. As he currently found himself spread and poised to take a different kind of assault, he’d all but chalked his efforts up as a failure. But now, as he looked up into Bow’s eyes, he saw none of the depravity that should have come with such a sexual turn of events.

Although Vegeta’s most intimate region laid bare and unfurled for Bow’s discretion, there wasn’t the smallest hint of lust or hunger in his appraisal. As the alarming red eyes roamed over the exposed skin, it appeared to be out of little more than moderate curiosity. There was nothing truly carnal in it.

But if Bow didn’t want _that_ from Vegeta, what did he want?

Even Buu, in his chaotic early form, had gotten something out of the humiliation and rape. What was Bow getting out of this? He could have fought Vegeta, blasted him until he couldn’t stand, beaten him to a bloody pulp, laughing manically all the while. Bow loved that sort of thing. He’d proven as much the day he’d helped wipe out The Look Out and then lunged into battle with Vegeta thereafter. If Bow wanted, he could break Vegeta now, one limb at a time, leave just enough to say he hadn’t killed him. Instead he chose this.

“Why?” he heard himself croak weakly. “Why do this?”

Bow took his time to pull his gaze from Vegeta’s lower region and meet the Saiyan’s questioning eyes.

In their profound stare, Vegeta caught the brief glint of genuine glee behind the otherwise aloof mask. At last, he found he understood.

Bow had no carnal need to sate, no curiosity to quench. Whatever happened next would be solely for the debasement of Vegeta. Bow would gain nothing from it aside from the knowledge that Vegeta was deeply suffering. What the Saiyan finally understood was that that was enough for Bow.

The same arm Bow had used to cut through Vegeta’s pants was transforming again, but instead of taking on a new form, it seemed to reject shape entirely. It melted into a thick liquid and dripped like hot wax onto Vegeta’s upturned buttocks.

He flinched slightly, expecting it to burn him. It didn’t, nor did it stick and coagulate on Vegeta’s splayed gluts, but pooled inward to his tightly-clamped anus. The gooey substance didn’t push or pry at his entrance, instead molded and formed to it, slipping between the tiniest folds, until Vegeta was horrified to feel its cool, trickling presence creeping past his sphincter.

Little by little, more of Bow’s liquefied flesh leaked through his defenses, and from there molded to his insides and spilled further. He couldn’t guess how much had poured in until the gooey substance began to expand and solidify.

Vegeta couldn't hold the gasps with each swell. His chest was rising and falling rapidly and his mouth gaped to issue a train of huffing sounds. Vegeta didn’t dare try to struggle, from fear it would only increase the internal damage he was sure he must already be suffering.

“Just getting you ready, baby,” Bow said in his deep groan.

Their eyes met for a lingering moment before Vegeta's rolled beneath his lids. The words themselves were of a gentle lover, but there was nothing gentle in the tone nor the abuse that followed.

The appendage seemed to throb inside of him endlessly. He couldn’t determine where it stopped. It followed his intestinal tract, filling every curve of his bowels.

Curled in on himself as he was, Vegeta already felt cramped, but as the swelling continued, he noticed a worrying heaviness and bulging in his abdomen.

Vegeta closed his eyes at once and tried to train his mind to something else, something far away.

Taking notice of Vegeta's attempts at relaxing, Bow swelled his arm even larger, sending the Saiyan into a renewed panic.

With a slick and sloppy sound, the spawn swiftly retracted his rubbery appendage from the prince's traumatized orifice, wrenching a guttural cry from Vegeta’s throat.

Judging by how engorged he’d felt, Vegeta could have sworn that Bow had shoved multiple yards of his tentacle-like arm into him, but when he looked up, he saw Bow withdrawing only a couple of feet at most before the limb shrank into its normal length and proportion. Vegeta had also noticed a distinct lack of blood coating it and felt faintly relieved. It was quickly overshadowed however by the screaming of his bowels from the violent treatment. Not even Buu, on that haunting day nor in Vegeta’s darkest nightmares, had invaded his body so thoroughly.

For a little while, Bow only stared down between Vegeta’s thighs, inspecting his work. He poked and prodded a little, dragging the sore skin of Vegeta’s sphincter open to get a better look inside, commenting occasionally in on what he saw:  

“Your hole is so supple and loose now,” he’d remark with an appreciative whistle. “I can see straight inside.”

Or he’d ask off-handedly, “do you know your guts are as red as cherry candies?”

With a particularly sharp jab, he’d point out, “pulling out so rough made you all swollen and inflamed, I can see your insides puffing out. I’ll push them back in.”

Vegeta for the most part phased him out, too caught up in the raw, throbbing ache resonating from deep within him, reignited by every careless jab and tug of Bow’s clawed fingers.

He breathed deeply when Bow finally pulled away.

After an extended pause, in which Vegeta went miraculously unharassed, curiosity finally opened his eyes and dragged them down to see what Bow was doing.

The mutant was pulling something from the folds of his pants.

It occurred to Vegeta that he’d never even wondered what the Buus’ reproductive organs might look like. When the senior mutant had taken him, it was as Kakarot. After that, Vegeta had just assumed that the mutants themselves didn’t possess natural penises, having no need for them.

It was possible he was correct in that guess and that this, like the body of Kakarot, was just another illusion; a tool for torturing him.

The appendage expanded before his eyes, looking sleek and firm like the rest of the Buus’ bodies. It was thickest in the middle and tapered at the tip. 

As Bow lined himself up, there was no lust in his eyes, no tenderness in his hands as they press his cheeks to spread him. When his hips at last drove forward, it was with the detached precision of a soldier carrying out his mission. He didn’t seem to revel in the way Vegeta heaved and shook with each mechanical thrust, or bask in the echoes of choked cries they ensued.

Bow only watched him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had to cut the chapter in half because it was too long. Boo! Good news is the next one will be up as soon as next week! Thank you all for your patience. 
> 
> I'd especially like to thank my wonderfully depraved beta, Rush_Toward, who always encourages more detail in these dirty scenes ;)
> 
> I know that was pretty dark, but I hope you all enjoyed it anyway!


	20. The Games

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, a couple days later than planned but here it is. Another brutal chapter for Vegeta but hang in there, things get better. 
> 
> Thank you for the encouraging comments, they really keep me writing. And a special thanks to Rush_Toward for her lovely betaing.
> 
> Enjoy!

 

Vegeta didn't know for how long Bow had fucked him nor how many times. He’d drifted in and out of consciousness periodically, never passed out for longer than a few seconds at a time. Bow made sure of that with every abrupt intrusion and jerking exit.

 

Now bound in a kneeling position on the bed with his head and shoulders laying on the mattress, Vegeta was too tired to fight against the band of Bow's elastic flesh that secured his wrists between his knees. His back was exhausted into a pronounced dip and his ass was spread and exposed to the tepid mountain air and every form of torment Bow could think up.

 

He was so exhausted but after the horrors he’d suffered in the last day, he couldn't fathom ever sleeping soundly again. Instead, his half-lidded eyes blinked dully and stared fixedly into the cave wall.

 

How long had he been there like that? For all he knew, another day had come and gone.

 

The rolls of thick, milky ooze that had been spouting from his tender orifice in messy, involuntary spurts had slowed to a steady trickle that now only dribbled down his soft shaft to pool on the mangled sheets. The filmy fluid had the look and consistency of sperm, but wasn’t. Bow had begun producing it explicitly to imitate Saiyan ejaculate. He’d said it was to make the experience more “real" for Vegeta.

 

When Vegeta had voiced just how much he appreciated it, the young mutant gave a low amused rumble before swelling up inside him again and spilling another hot load deep in his channel. His bowels had become heavy with the alien fluid and he felt sick thinking about it coating him so deeply, lubricating the way for more of Bow’s ministrations.

 

Unlike the first time, The Grove, Vegeta was fairly lucid considering all he’d endured. It was surprising the level of command he still held over his mind. While his body was breached and plied and pillaged, he maintained a relatively firm handle on the situation, though not for any lack of effort on Bow’s part.

 

The trick with the Dende double might have been the thing to test Vegeta’s resolve, had it not failed spectacularly.

 

It also helped that Bow didn’t seem particularly interested in making him get off on any of it. This time around, Vegeta didn’t have the crushing weight of self-revulsion to cope with on top of the heaps of physical punishment. He only needed to grit his teeth through the suffering and wait it out. In short, he only needed to be himself.

 

He’d thought he had survived the worst of it, that he might see the end of this nightmarish ordeal with his pride intact, and that’s when Bow had suddenly disappeared. It had been roughly half an hour now that Vegeta had been bound there, ass up, muscles stiff and groaning, mutant jizz crusting down his perineum and thighs, and apparently all alone.

 

The worst thing was not knowing what the absence meant. As it dragged on, the anticipation of what was to come had him wincing at every tiny echo in the cave. Even the soft whistling of wind through the entryway sent a chill down his spine.

 

What was Bow doing? Vegeta’s sporadic focus coupled with his perceptively limiting position made it difficult to be sure he’d even left the cave. Bow may have been waiting silently behind him, masking his energy and watching him with those still, dead eyes.

 

The idea that Bow had gotten bored with him had not dared cross his mind for fear of stirring hope in himself. He’d abandoned that some time in the third or fourth hour of getting penetrated in every way just short of skewering.

 

No, Bow wasn't bored.

 

He guessed the fledgling mutant was either staying away deliberately for the purpose of heightening Vegeta’s despair when he returned later, or he’d gone to find something else with which to torture him.

 

With no other choice, Vegeta waited, staring into the wall, and when the sound of unhurried boot steps approached the bed and he felt the ominous dip in the mattress behind him, he didn’t stiffen or let his breath hitch in in throat.

 

He caught the unmistakable orange-red glint in the corner of his eye and heard the low clank of marble knocking against marble.

 

It was his second guess then. 

 

 

 

 

Though the Earth Dragon Balls were considerably smaller than the Namekian ones, Vegeta still felt every cold and unyielding inch as the first one entered his body.

 

“Guess,” Bow said for the second time, but Vegeta still didn’t understand.

 

Bow fingered the ball deeper until it sat securely enveloped in Vegeta’s moist, clinging channel.

 

Vegeta jerked, body heaving in an effort to eject the solid, bulky invasion, before swallowing hard and forcing himself to relax around it. Meanwhile, his mind was struggling to work out what Bow wanted from him.

 

As the ball settled in him, he finally understood. Everything was a game with Bow. The suffocation, the illusion earlier with Dende--  only Vegeta had won that one. This new game was surely retribution for that.

 

“If you’re wrong,” Bow allowed a pause. “I put another one of your guardian’s Dragon Balls inside of you.”

 

Vegeta was exhausted by the hours of torture he’d already endured and the deceptively heavy marble in his gut, while not the least comfortable thing Bow had stuffed inside him, felt more foreign and unnatural than anything yet. It felt wrong there. Such pure and sacred items as the Dragon Balls should never be used for such a base and perverted purpose. It was shameful in a way that made Vegeta lament over the Namekian more than even Bow’s faulty impersonation had earlier.

 

It was debasement having even one ball used this way. The prospect of having a second shoved in alongside it was dismantling and Vegeta had to focus his breathing to settle the churning in his gut.

 

“What's your guess, Saiyan? Or…” Bow stroked Vegeta’s tense thigh in a display of tenderness of which they both knew him incapable. “Don't you want to play?”

 

“And if I guess right?”

 

The stretched silence that followed the question made him think that Bow hadn’t considered that possibility, which didn’t bode well.

 

“I go,” the mutant answered simply.

 

Vegeta sighed, wanting to call bullshit. The idea that Bow would just drop everything in the middle of his playtime was doubtful to say the least. It was as likely as the mutant backing off if Vegeta had crumbled in the face of the Dende transformation. No, Bow was not so easily veered from a course of action. The feral mutant had waited too long to have the Saiyan all to himself, and Buu was not there to stand between them. Nothing Vegeta said, even if it was what Bow wanted, could possible stop this now that it had begun.

 

But then again, up to this point, Vegeta had been steeling himself, showing only as much of his inner anguish as would leak from the cracks of his stony mask. Not once had he considered giving Bow what he wanted, showing Bow just how tired and desperate he really was. It was as outrageous an idea as begging outright. Still, he couldn’t deny that the prospect of putting a stop to all of this with a single word made his chest seize up around his heart. All he had to do was guess.

 

But if he guessed wrong…

 

Bow gave a long deep hum behind him signifying the near end to his limited patience.

 

Vegeta rolled his tongue over dry lips and cleared his throat.

 

But could he do it? Could he give himself up like that, give Bow what he wanted for the small chance that he might keep his word?  Was the cost to his pride worth such a sliver of a possibility? On the other side of the token, if Vegeta refused to participate at all, Bow would not take it well. Was salvaging his pride worth the ominous repercussions of angering Bow again?

 

As Bow extended his finger inside him to nudge impatiently at the Dragon Ball, Vegeta took a sharp breath, closed his eyes and gritted out his answer.

 

“Nine.”

 

During the dense pause that followed, Vegeta would have killed to see the look on the petulant mutant’s face go slowly from smug, to confused, and finally to pissed. Unfortunately, from his position, he could only imagine it.

 

“Oh, Vegeta,” came Bow’s creeping drawl at last. “Not in the mood to play then?”

 

“Wait, no-- the twelve star? Nineteen? Can I get a re-do?” Vegeta forced out a jagged laugh that was worth the scraping pain it caused his tender throat.

 

Bow said nothing but shifted around behind him.

 

Vegeta tried to keep laughing even as he felt the smooth surface of another Dragon Ball pressed to his raw opening.

 

Bow didn’t take it slow this time, but popped the ball inside so hard there was an audible glassy _“chink!_ ” as it rammed into the first one and drove them both deeper. 

 

Vegeta’s laugh broke into a startled yelp and he shoved his face in the sheets.

 

The sudden, brute collision of the two balls was jarring and painful, but Vegeta had expected it. What he hadn’t expected was the residual vibration that came after. It was like the gong of a struck bell. The balls continued to hum tantalizingly inside him for about ten seconds before going still.

 

He swallowed down what he didn’t want to believe was a moan.

 

The first ball along with everything else Bow had used to break him in had ensured that the muscled ring of his anus would offer little resistance to the second ball’s intrusion, but nothing had prepared him for the odd vibration that followed it. He didn’t think Bow had anticipated that effect either but, considering the way it affected his body, the mutant probably wouldn’t mind it. Vegeta could only pray it wouldn’t happen again, and resolve to work hard to hide his reactions if it did.

 

The cool surface of another Dragon Ball touched his slack entrance. This time, Bow didn’t force it all in at once. Instead, he pressed it until it sat half-inside, keeping Vegeta’s ring stretched around the widest part of the formidable sphere.

 

Vegeta held his breath and was completely still.

 

With a loud _Whack!_ Bow’s open hand came down hard across Vegeta’s prone backside, lobbing the half-seated Dragon Ball all the way in in one unbridled blow.

Vegeta’s whole body went rigid. The Dragon Ball’s lurching intrusion made him feel like he’d been torn open.

 

The third ball hit the second with an electric jolt and wedged all three deeper. He hid his head in the blankets again as his shocked howl turned into an open mouth groan. The residual vibration this time was more resonant than the first. The quaking chime felt like it lasted thirty seconds before finally, mercifully dying out.

 

Vegeta panted as his ass throbbed from the powerful slap, but not from pain like it should have. The vibrations were warping his nerves. His hole tried to close but only trembled and winked. The three balls left behind them a gaping trench to the outside allowing cool air to circulate inward, brushing lightly against his tender inner walls in a way that was almost comforting before the breeze turned ominously hot.

 

Bow was leaning over him, inspecting him closely, blowing his hot, ashy breath into him.

 

Vegeta couldn’t close himself up to block it-- the balls were such prominent entities inside him, the effort of clenching around them was more than he could muster. Besides, when he clamped down on the balls, his inner tract went taut around them in a fuzzying way that posed its own challenge to Vegeta. If he just relaxed himself, he wouldn’t have to deal with how soothing the intruders’ cool surfaces felt against his ravaged walls, or the way the balls would press against a certain spot behind his bladder and make his cock twitch. No, better to feel the pain and shame, better he leave his hole splayed open for Bow’s prodding eyes and fingers, than the horror of taking secret pleasure from it. 

 

“We’ll need to make some more room for the fourth one,” Bow was saying as he prodded Vegeta’s fully occupied rectum with three clawed fingers.

 

He jabbed the balls with the pointed tips of his obsidian nails, sending terrible little tremors down the line of glassy spheres with every tiny clank. It was a disgusting blessing that his insides were so heavily coated with Bow’s foul fluids that the balls didn’t tear him as they tugged abruptly deeper.

 

Vegeta bit his lip and tried not to clench around the vibrations so as not to concentrate the effect. Every muscle went so limp, his eyes even rolled to the back of his head.

 

When Bow was satisfied that he’d jammed the balls back enough to make sufficient room for the fourth and final one, he withdrew his fingers with a slick and messy sound that made Vegeta grimace.

 

With nothing else to do, he braced himself for the next brutal intrusion, but although Bow may have tried to make this one as unpleasant as possible for his captive, Vegeta’s hole had been well broken-in and the previous three balls had left the channel open for the fourth to slide in with little resistance.

 

He was even able to smother his moans when it connected with the third ball and sent a vengeful shock up the line, wreaking havoc in tremulous little bursts all over his body.

 

As the quaking in his gut finally subsided, leaving only his thighs trembling slightly, Vegeta felt Bow shifting behind him again.

 

Finally it would be over. Though the fourth one wasn’t so bad going in, he felt uncomfortably full now, unnaturally heavy. He felt an odd gratitude to his pride that had kept him from seeking out the full set of Dragon Balls, and even a little remiss that he hadn’t abandoned the search sooner. There was no way he’d have been able to take another Dragon Ball inside him, let alone seven—and certainly not with any more of those unbearable vibrations.

 

He was still coming down from the last wave of tremors when he felt Bow’s fingers enter him again. They weren’t so rough on their own--Vegeta was so loosened up now-- but when they found the Dragon Balls and jostled them, every sensation was amplified.

 

“Do you think, if I gathered the rest of the Dragon Balls inside you and summoned the Dragon, that he would burst from your ass or your throat?” He punctuated the options with a sharp pistoning of his fingers, driving the balls jarringly, invasively deeper, forcing them to curve around the bends of his colon and reach depths only previously explored by Bow’s arm.

 

The worst thing was the almost numbingly powerful vibrations the balls emitted with each subtle connection, and the work of smothering his own involuntarily whines.

 

Bow’s voice sounded like it was coming from the end of a long hall amidst the barrage of sensations, and Vegeta didn’t catch the last thing he said.

 

He felt Bow’s fingers leave him and the shift of the mattress as he left the bed.

 

When he returned only moments later, Vegeta thought the mutant would fuck him then, with the four Dragon Balls lodged inside him, clanking and rocking like lead bulbs with every bludgeoning thrust. He even thought he was ready for it. Maybe then this could all end.

 

He barely blinked when something landed on the sheets next to him. With his hazy vision, he focused on the familiar object.

 

Dimly, Bow’s words caught up to him. “Let’s find out,” he’d said.

 

Next, Bow reached over and clicked the button on the top of the circular device and the green screen lit up. Immediately, the gadget started beeping.

 

Vegeta’s heart-beat quickened to match the rapid pace of the radar. It was beeping so fast. That wasn’t strange though. It was only a foot away from the four Dragon Balls so of course it was going nuts.

 

Bow’s arm returned to his line of sight to tilt the gadget so Vegeta could better see the reading on the screen.

 

Vegeta blinked repeatedly, trying to clear his dry eyes.

 

Surely, he couldn’t be seeing this. There were only four. He was sure of it. He’d only collected the four.

 

Yet, there in the center of the grid, beneath the red locator were seven gold dots.

 

“You see?” Bow’s deep droning voice cut through the chorus of denial in Vegeta’s head. “The first ball was a new one, one you hadn’t found yet. So you would have guessed wrong even if you played along. Wouldn’t that have been funny?”

 

Slowly it dawned on Vegeta what Bow had been doing all that time he was away.

 

“But you wouldn’t play along,” Bow lamented.

 

Vegeta scrambled for a solution, trying to wrap his mind around what this new information meant.

 

He didn’t need to wonder long as he felt the fifth Dragon Ball placed against his entrance.

 

 

 

 

It was moving. Like an overgrown worm, it wriggled and twitched between his thighs. He wanted it off of him, out of him, but every time he moved to grab the rubbery piece of Bow, it shot inward, knocking against the Dragon Balls and sending a shockwave through Vegeta’s entire body.

 

Bow told him to leave it alone, and as Vegeta rode the jittering waves of the vibrations, he could just barely cling to the words.

 

Bow set him down somewhere outside. Vegeta wasn’t sure where Bow had flown them but he could make out the dirt and grass through strained slits of eyes. He fell forward bonelessly.

 

Bow pulled him to his feet, taking little care in handling the exhausted Saiyan. When Vegeta collapsed a second time, Bow jerked him up again.

 

“Walk,” Bow instructed, and that was all the aid the mutant offered.

 

With his body’s energy depleted and his motor skills ravaged, he could only do his best to comply. He took an unsteady step forward, then another. He couldn’t focus his vision well but managed to keep his balance.

 

The balls were so bulky and invasive in his system, they caused noticeable discomfort as he walked. They rocked and knocked inside him with every step. No matter how desperately he wanted to push them out, a vice-like band of Bow’s flesh prevented it, acting as a plug. Were it removed, the balls would surely slide out on their own; He was so slick and stretched out after all that Bow had done to him.

 

“Get to that tree straight ahead, “Bow’s voice drawled from some ways back.

 

Why, Vegeta wanted to ask. Would he take the Dragon Balls out then? Would he kill him? He couldn’t ask. Bow wouldn’t answer anyway, not in a way Vegeta would like.

 

Vegeta directed his wavering focus ahead to a lone-standing tree that looked like it was on the other end of a football field.

 

“If you stop or slow down…” Vegeta felt the wormy appendage give a hinting lurch, only glancing the last ball but still making his breath catch in his throat. “Well…don’t stop or slow down.” Bow finished.

 

Vegeta scowled back at the leering mutant. Another game then.

 

Whatever happened when he got to the tree would be something different from this, and Vegeta thought that was enough. If it turned out to be something worse…Well, then he would deal with that when it came.

 

The band of Bow’s flesh that was fastened firmly in the crevice of his ass gave a warning wiggle and Vegeta began his steady advance.

 

Each step made the enchanted balls clank and roll, giving Vegeta the leaping feeling in his loins he used to get from the roller coasters that Trunks would insist they ride together. Although that feeling didn’t leave him gasping for air and clutching at his bulging abdomen.

 

He’d slowed again to catch his breath and immediately felt the thick piece of Bow breech him like a spear, targeting the balls directly. Vegeta jumped and lost his balance, only catching himself against a nearby tree.

 

Evidently, like the earlier game with the Dragon Balls, there would be no first or second strikes here. Bow was going right for the kill.

 

Stinging sweat streamed into his eyes and he smeared it away with the back of a trembling hand before pushing himself off the tree and trudging onward.

 

His destination was not so far off. He could get there in a few short minutes if he just didn’t stop. He held his rolling middle. Moving quickly was also dangerous. Even the softest impacts sent tremors up the line of Dragon Balls, whipping his nerves and making him fumble in his footing.

 

Willing himself to focus, he blinked away the new sweat pooling in his eyes and in doing so  missed the large knotted root jutting up out of the ground directly in his path.

 

His foot caught and he tumbled forward.

 

Immediately he pushed himself back up, shoving away the blinding fireworks in his belly, but he was too slow.

 

The worm-like strip of flesh, instead of plunging deeper, began vibrating viciously inside him, rattling against the stacked Dragon Balls that couldn’t help but quiver along with it in his colon. Vegeta nearly fell over but caught himself against another tree. His legs began to wobble uncontrollably, knees knocking together.

 

It was too much. Bow knew what he was doing. Vegeta couldn’t overcome the white hot sensation enveloping him.

 

After an ambitious step forward, he fell to the ground. Although he was weak, he tried to fight sitting because he knew any direct pressure on his ass would only concentrate the vibrations on the Dragon Balls nestled in his gut.

 

“Almost there, Saiyan,” he heard Bow call behind him.

 

He’d almost forgotten what he was doing, lost in the electric ripples. With considerable difficulty, he lifted his head to see how far away the tree was. It wouldn’t be too long now. He could make it.

 

Because he couldn’t stand on his feet, Vegeta crawled on his hands and knees, pausing only briefly every few seconds when the sensation became too strong to ignore. The balls pummeled his colon, stirring his insides into mush. He gritted his teeth and clenched his fists, fighting with all of his will to ignore the turbulence in his loins.

 

Vegeta wanted to scream and thrash. Instead, he grunted and swallowed. Lifting his head, he set to moving forward again. Just as he took another step, the rattling in his gut intensified. Rapid bolts of electricity wracked his body.

 

Vegeta cried out. He couldn't go any further, he couldn't even take a breath.

 

The molten sensation that had been building and ebbing in turns inside him was now filling him without rest. Just as he felt he would overflow, it seemed to rush downward and— _oh_ ...

 

Vegeta curled in on himself, hands diving between his thighs as if to shield himself from some external danger, but the threat was only within him, deep but quickly coming to the surface.

 

No…he couldn’t let it, he couldn’t…

 

Vegeta clenched up but was helpless as the heat erupted from him in blinding bursts that swept his body and left him panting and distantly wet.

 

The quaking inside him didn’t abate after the awful orgasm however, but continued heedlessly thumping against the oversensitive spot behind his bladder until he felt the fire building up all over again.

 

“Stop!” he managed to choke out. “S-stop this!” 

 

Vegeta howled and collapsed, unable to support his own weight any longer. His bombarded nerves sent his body into heaving convulsions.

 

Another searing torrent engulfed his whole being before shooting downward and gushing out of him. He was powerless to stop it, nor the next one that crept up and tore out of him shortly after.

 

Vegeta thought at that moment of calling out for help, but there was no one to call. What a cruel irony that on one of the rarest occasions in his life he was surrendering to his helplessness and begging for mercy, with only the sadistic mutant behind him as witness.

 

It wasn’t Bow that Vegeta was thinking about now however.

 

Another face came to his mind’s eye and just when he felt he would die from over stimulus, he cried out.

 

The second the name left his lips, the violent stirring inside him stopped. Only the residual vibrations of the seven balls hummed on hauntingly for another minute or so afterward, but by then his body was so overwrought from the relentless treatment of before, it only felt like a million tiny pinpricks over his body before slowly dissipating as well. He was left feeling wonderfully numb, floating as if he weren’t even there.

 

Distantly, he heard a voice. It was calling out. It was calling his name.

 

“Vegeta...What… What did Bow... “

 

The new voice was urgent, concerned. It had the warm tone of a friend and Vegeta wanted desperately to believe it was. It could have been a stranger and at that moment he would have loved to call him friend. When he was turned over on his back, his vision was too blotched with tears and delirium to distinguish one shape from another but he was able to make out a pair of eyes.

 

He was startled at first to see they were all black with red irises, but something in them made him certain they weren’t Bow’s and he went still. Bow’s eyes were blot red like coagulated blood and made Vegeta think of the sharp edges of razors and animals with shot eyes whose bodies were left to rot and fester after a wasteful kill. They were frivolous and frenzied eyes.

 

These weren’t like that. These eyes were crimson like furled rose petals and the burnt sky when the sun is low and vanishing in the ocean. These were warm eyes, safe eyes. It wasn’t Bow.

 

The figure hovered over him, repeating his name. He felt himself being pulled into a broad embrace.

 

Vegeta’s own limbs, shell-shocked as they were, could neither return nor reject the arms encircling him.

 

Distantly, he was able to make out a voice, rushed and babbling. Through the hazy jumble, he thought it sounded like… an apology. Yes, the figure was apologizing, repeatedly and at great length. The soothing voice cracked and broke intermittently but hurried on, anxious to convey some point Vegeta was just too tired to make out.

 

That any of the things the figure was saying should concern him was a faraway thought which Vegeta could contend with on a later date. For now, the only thing he knew was that he desperately needed rest and he felt so warm and safe in the strange arms.

 

Everything went dark.


	21. Safe Hands

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Out of the clutches of Bow, Vegeta recuperates under the care of a stranger. But who is this stranger and is Vegeta really safe now from the fledgeling mutant?

 

Everything ached.

Inside him… outside. He couldn’t place the source of the aching because it wasn’t confined to a central location. Everything seemed to throb and sting and groan with each passing breath—the breath itself pained him, forcing his lungs and rib cage to expand and pulling at what felt like thousands of tears and cracks in his interior structure. The strain was enough to confine him to clipped and shallow breaths.

Through the constant, dull ache, arose a permeating pain.

This one definitely came from deep inside. Only it seemed to be burrowing its way to the surface, like a slow, diligent spear.

Unlike the aching that was a constant backdrop to his murky consciousness, this more active pain came it waves. Each cycle jerked his sore, battered body into a hysterical frenzy, making the subtle aching erupt into full blown agony all over him. Something held him, kept him from escaping it, wrapped around him, forcing him to feel every piercing inch as the distinctive pain tore and dissected him.

As the waves of pain rose to their peaks, they were interrupted by small sporadic pricks of heat that would twist his discomfort into something almost tolerable and rattle him to the core. They were only brief occurrences though and he would quickly cool down again before getting back to the familiar pain.

When it wasn’t the intrusive pain or endless ache, it was the numbing blackness, but even there Vegeta found no reprieve.

Through the heavy dark emerged a glowing pair of blood-red eyes, still and unblinking, always on him. Prying carelessly. Smiling mirthlessly. Vegeta felt nothing in the suffocating dark, but he couldn’t escape those eyes, always watching him.

It was almost with open arms that he welcomed back the ache as he came slowly out of the blackness and sluggishly regained more of his senses.

The smell of pine came first, filling his nostrils and lungs with its spicy scent. Then came the distant calls of birds as if from outside a window. His eyes were slowest to rouse and for a long time only picked up fuzzy light from beneath his drooping eye-lids. At all times, however, when he wasn’t swallowed in the blackness, he could _feel._

He felt the gentle heat from the sun on his skin and the wind whisking through his hair. He bathed in the cozy warmth of what felt like cotton sheets swathed around him. He felt cool trickling of water pouring over his hair, weighing it down so the thick strands draped down his back. More than anything else however, more than even the aching in his body, Vegeta felt hands.

With each emergence from the black depths, the aching in his body dulled and he seemed to gain a firmer grasp of his surroundings, and with that, a clearer awareness of a pair of hands, large and sure, lifting him, arranging him, guiding him. The touch never left him. The only time he didn’t detect the hands’ presence was when he’d lapsed back into the blackness. At first, he was wary of them, awaiting the moment they would add to his pain, but they never did.

On the day that his legs had regained enough balance and fortitude to carry a portion of his own weight, he felt the ticklish spikes of grass beneath his feet and those lingering hands guiding him gently by the waist. His feet then met a shock of cold submerging them to the ankles, belatedly alerting his mind that he’d been lead into water. He was guided further until the cold swirling sensation came up to his calves, and then the gentle hands arranged him upright against what felt like a large boulder. 

From there, the hands left him completely, only to return moments later and begin spreading a soothing coolness everywhere they went. Vegeta deduced they were pouring water on him.

The hands swathed up this arms and down his chest, exploring him freely with a cleansing touch, yet seeming to know where to take caution.

He came to know the hands, like they were their own entity. He began to attach characteristics to his caretaker based on the touch alone. He judged that he was safe with this stranger by the warmth and care in the way the hands touched him.

The touch was not controlling or coarse but soft and light. The hands glided over him with an easy familiarity as if they knew Vegeta’s body well. They traced the contours of his form as if following well-traveled pathways. It was almost with adoration the way they gingerly lifted his arms to rinse beneath, and how they dipped between each of his fingers to clean the tender webbing.

He found himself relaxing into the touch, shoulders falling back against the rock.

His companion knew him-- had to. The way the pads of the fingers found and pressed against his aches, soothing them instantly, and the way they only grazed over the more intimate areas of his body, taking the utmost care, eluding his sex until absolutely necessary, as if to save him his dignity.

There was reverence in the contact, respect. The touch was kin and although Vegeta hadn’t felt such a thing in a long time, he hadn’t forgotten.

Slowly, his weary eyes cracked open.

He had to see whose hands were on him. In his bones he already knew, but he needed to be certain.

The day burned white in his shocked retinas but Vegeta blinked and grimaced through the brightness.

He knew when his eyes sorted through the hazy bright shapes what he would find kneeling at his feet clad in orange and blue. He also knew that the large, gentle hands still gliding over him would be attached to strong, muscular wrists wrapped in weighted cloth bands. He knew when the bowed head tilted back that it would be the purest onyx staring up at him from beneath unruly dark locks. He knew it so well he couldn’t breathe.

Still, he needed to see.

As his eyes adjusted with infuriating slowness to the glaring daylight and he blinked away the gauze of his long rest, Vegeta found himself caught in an entirely different gaze, one not of deep, enveloping onyx but of bold, staggering red.

Vegeta froze.

From a lone blot of shade amid the blazing plane of white light, the two red eyes stared out at him.

They were the same eyes that found Vegeta no matter how deeply he drifted into the blackness.

 The nightmare came flooding back at once. It was Bow. He was watching them. Watching him.

Vegeta’s body reacted on its own, revolting against the being at his feet, trying to edge away from those hands that at first felt so welcome and familiar but had now been warped into slimy extensions of Bow.

 

**One Week Earlier**

 

If Buu had muscles or bones they would have been stiff and creaking with the strain of holding himself so still and upright for so long.

He didn’t move and didn’t blink. When a bird landed on his antenna on the morning of the second day, he didn’t flinch. He was as still as a stone statue.

Then he heard it. Without a second’s pause, he charged into action. The source of the cry wasn’t far from the hut, only just beyond the trees of the surrounding forest.

When his eyes found the figure in the dirt, Buu’s body turned to lead and he couldn’t move.

The nearly unrecognizable creature writhed as it dragged itself across the ground. The smudged and scraped body was naked except for shreds of navy blue clinging pathetically around his hips and out from his boots as if the clothes had been ripped from his limbs. The gloved hands dug deep gouges in the soil as he pulled himself forward.

Grasping the slight frame by the shoulders, Buu rolled the man into his arms. Anguished gasps and choked sobs fell from dry, bruised lips and the glassy eyes that had once been so guarded now gazed up at him with naked horror.

All at once, Buu fell apart. Words poured from his mouth in a tumultuous cascade.

He’d led Bow to him. He’d caused this. Of course he’d known Bow would follow him, and when Buu had left the cave and its sole occupant utterly exposed and unguarded, he’d known Bow would go in. But he hadn’t meant for this; at the time he was just so furious...

The moment his eyes had fallen upon the Dragon Balls, he’d lost himself to emotion. He thought it was rage but now he understood. In that moment, what he’d really felt was pain beyond anything he’d ever known-- beyond anything he’d thought himself capable. He couldn’t bear the thought of Vegeta wanting him dead, because the truth was-- and Buu hadn’t been able to face it until now as the words tumbled from his mouth-- that he could never kill Vegeta. The Saiyan meant too much.

So, blinded by his pain, Buu let himself believe Bow would only beat him a little, throw him around like he’d done the day they’d abolished The Lookout.

But he hadn’t known… hadn’t wanted…

He couldn’t stop saying he was sorry. As he rocked Vegeta’s small, dollish body in his arms, the ancient mutant began to feel, for the first time, a strange stinging in his eyes.

 

 

After securing the Dragon Balls, Buu carried Vegeta’s wilted body to the lake behind the hut. There, he peeled away what was left of his clothes and submerged him in the cool water. For a long time, Buu rubbed at the clammy skin until it was streaked with angry red marks.

Buu wanted to shake the Saiyan, rouse him into coherence, demand to know every detail of what had happened since the moment Bow entered the cave. Then he would scrub raw every surface the fledgling had touched, no matter how deep. He told himself he didn’t care if it hurt Vegeta. He needed to be cleaned.

The weak yelps of protest went ignored as Buu vehemently scoured each limb, lost in his own fantasies of vengeance. The raven mane was mangled and matted with a strange crusty substance. Buu had to tug and yank to detangle it. It wasn’t until he pulled back on the thick tresses to wash Vegeta’s face that Buu noticed the glistening streaks that lined the muddied cheeks, and he paused.

He was more gentle after that. The Saiyan had suffered enough. It was now Buu’s role to ensure no more harm came to him, least of all by his own hand.

 

 

Vegeta didn’t wake that night but he didn’t seem to sleep either. Buu watched him from across the room, fearful of disturbing the Saiyan by getting too close but finding it innately impossible to leave him. He swallowed down the vengeful fire in his gut that had not diminished even slightly in the hours since finding the Saiyan. Watching the restless body, he told himself that Bow would have to wait.

Swathed in sheets on the bed Buu had fashioned, Vegeta’s chest heaved and muscles strained beneath flushed and gleaming skin.

Buu didn’t have dreams, not like mortals did, but from what he’d learned through his many transformations, he could guess that Vegeta was in one. Based on what he’d gathered, dreams could be farcical or borrowed from memory. He didn’t know all the details of what Vegeta had undergone in his time with Bow but he had a feeling that the Saiyan was reliving every wretched second beneath the fluttering eye-lids and knitted brow. Also telling were the awful scratchy gasps issuing from his gaping mouth that suggested the Saiyan would be screaming if he had the voice to do so.

Buu’s fists shook at his sides.

Bow could wait, he told himself again. Bow could wait. 

 

 

The next day, Buu did his best to feed Vegeta from the roasted meat of a wild beast he’d found roaming the nearby woods. He seemed to accept it, chewing only the smallest scraps in his feverish state, but he didn’t heave it back up so that was good.

By the end of the third day, Vegeta still hadn’t awoken, but his energy seemed to be gathering, albeit at a laborious rate. Saiyan or not, this half-sleep would not aid his body’s healing, Buu knew. 

Everyday Buu bathed and fed him, nursing him gradually back to moderate strength. On the fourth day, Buu’s patience was rewarded; in the morning, Buu led the groggy Saiyan out to the lake and was pleased to find that he was able to hold much of his own weight, shuffling on his feet with one arm slung over Buu’s neck. His eyes were sunken and vacant still and he murmured and grunted beneath his breath, but he seemed vaguely aware of Buu’s presence as he accepted his assistance.

It was a small miracle that Vegeta was able to remain propped up against the bolder Buu had leaned him on. It was a good sign. His strength was returning.

Buu may have been more gentle than necessary, but he felt he couldn’t take enough care with the feeble Saiyan.

Buu began with washing his upper body, letting his palms glide over the mounds and dips of the muscled chest and shoulders, before moving down to Vegeta’s legs.

Kneeling down, Buu ran his hands up the firm calves and thighs, taking special caution as he gingerly rinsed the soft scrotum. He’d been able to ward off any less-than-innocent desires in himself at the beginning with surprising efficiency. Something about finding Vegeta that way in the woods had effectively smothered his appetite. Then his subsequent role as care-taker had added an almost parental tone to their relationship. Protecting Vegeta had become the foremost priority in Buu’s mind. The last thing he wanted to do now was risk damaging the Saiyan in a way that might undo all the progress they’d made. 

So, it was with genuine care and reverence that Buu’s hands glided over the goose-pimpled skin. He glanced up frequently, reading the Saiyan’s reactions, gauging whether to venture further or back off of a particularly vulnerable area. Vegeta was a frail and precious thing there and Buu felt a certain amount of privilege to be the one to see him so humbled and bare.

As he rinsed him, scooping up water in his hands and letting it stream down Vegeta’s reclined body, he got the sense the man was beginning to enjoy it. His disquieted grumbles turned into deep purrs and his body, which had been rigid and tense even while at rest, slackened against the rock. Buu hadn’t seen him so relaxed in all the time he’d been caring from him. Every day, the Saiyan seemed to be quietly reliving his time with Bow behind the wall of his half-consciousness, even attempting to push Buu away on the previous occasions he’d tried to bathe him, as if mistaking the senior mutant’s roaming hands for Bow’s.

This was a very welcome change. Seeing that anxious furrow in the Saiyan’s brow smooth away gave Buu hope that Vegeta might have a full recovery.

Then Vegeta went suddenly stiff and Buu thought he’d rejoiced too soon.

“Vegeta, you’re fighting,” he soothed, gently grabbing and moving the small hands away as they began pawing deliriously at his head. When they didn’t let up as they normally did but began pushing at Buu in an energized fervor, the mutant noticed the Saiyan’s whole body was shaking.

Finally, Buu looked up and found that Vegeta’s eyes, which had been dull and hollow for days now were blown wide open and looked very much full of life.

“What is it?” Buu shot up and, noting where Vegeta’s large eyes were staring, turned his attention to the far side of the lake.

Bow was standing in the shade of the trees, watching them. The fledgling didn’t look like he wanted to interfere and Buu wasn’t about to leave Vegeta to go confront him, now that the Saiyan had finally regained consciousness.

“Don’t worry. Shhhh. Calm yourself,” he said, turning back to the frantic Saiyan and pulling him into his chest. “He won’t harm you.”

When he turned back again, Bow had left his place in the shadows, but hadn’t gone far; Buu could feel him just out of sight. 

Later, Buu asserted. Later.

 

 

It wasn’t easy getting Vegeta to calm down after seeing Bow. As Buu set him down in the bed beneath the covers, the hysterical Saiyan continued breathing quickly and shallowly as if he’d been suffocated. 

Buu held him a while longer, making soft shushing sounds and stroking his hair until his breathing evened. Then the mutant rose to find the now roused Saiyan some food, debating briefly whether to take the stairs or to blast a hole straight through the floor. He decided on the stairs but flew so fast the walls shook.

Vegeta was finally awake. And what a sight to wake up to, Buu lamented as he bolted back into the bedroom with the bowl of very well done meat—charred black in a hasty, over calculated blast— topped haphazardly with a bunch of vegetation (Buu had begun tending a garden along the side of the hut upon reviewing Saiyan nutritional needs).

Though his eyes were open now, Vegeta seemed only half present, still reeling from the shock at the lake. He stared blankly at the sheets and didn’t resist as Buu tore up tiny pieces of meat and brought them up to his lips.

 

 

Over the next few days, Vegeta steadily reclaimed his motor skills and was able to feed and bathe himself with only minimal assistance from Buu, who was there within a breath’s notice at the slightest hint of distress or weariness in Vegeta’s demeanor.

Vegeta moved slowly and cautiously, mindful of every particle in his surroundings. Buu didn’t miss the defensive rise in his shoulders whenever he drew near. The watchful mutant waited for the protest, the bolt to flee but Vegeta quietly tolerated his aid.

Something in the mutant’s chest swelled every time Vegeta responded with a small hum or nod when addressed and when he even allowed Buu to help when he struggled to rise from the bed or when he sought food.

Buu had expected more of a fight when Vegeta had regained full cognizance, but the Saiyan remained complacent, docile even. It must have been a sobering realization when Buu had told him just how long he’d been out. Buu didn’t mention that in that time he’d assisted Vegeta with _everything._ He thought he saw the exact moment Vegeta had pieced it together though by the way all the color had seemed to drain from his face.

Maybe he’d resigned himself then. After all, what was the point of keeping up the pretense of modesty when Buu had seen all there was to see?

Despite the initial discomfort, Vegeta allowed Buu to continue taking care of him with little fuss.

Buu went on fetching water from the well and hunting for meat even after Vegeta could move around freely on his own. Although Vegeta was fully capable of bathing himself, Buu continued accompanying him to the lake. He never told Buu to turn away or attempted to cover himself as he stripped away the clothes Buu had made him and waded into the water, and he didn’t seem to mind that Buu stayed and watched on the shore.

Perhaps Buu had grown to take Vegeta’s silence as a consent more often than he should have. Maybe he’d gone so far as to mistake the outwardly stable appearance for a full recovery. Through whatever misstep, Buu had steadily come to the conclusion that Vegeta was ready for more than his remedial attention.

 

 

Buu let his tongue snake into the deep, clenching orifice.

When Vegeta tensed and seemed to try to pull himself up the bed, hands clawing at the sheets, Buu told himself that the Saiyan was lost in pleasure and no longer in control of his reactions. His clawed hands pinned the thrashing thighs against the mattress and plundered Vegeta more deeply, spurred on by every twist and jerk of his hips.

Then, when the barking grunts thinned to quivering sighs and the bucking body went utterly still, leaving only the steady rise and fall of his breaths and the idle twitching of his fingers, Buu told himself that he’d exhausted the Saiyan with sheer stimulus and swelled with pride.

All the while, a familiar doubt crept in the back of his mind. Buu shoved it away with practiced ease. _Vegeta wants this,_ he scolded the doubt _. Look at the way he trembles._

Buu’s eyes raked over the sheen of sweat visible over the bare, curved ass and rippling back. Slowly and reluctantly he withdrew his tongue, relishing in the way Vegeta gasped as it left him, body clinging onto the last few inches. Buu hummed.

Sliding up Vegeta's drenched back, he buried his nose in the dark flame of hair. Buu could feel the strong back muscles twitching against his chest and abs.

“Vegeta,” he moaned, drunk with ecstasy. _“Vegeta.”_ His prize.

Buu purred the name again and again and seemed to call more tremors out of the silent man beneath him.

Though Vegeta had healed greatly over the past weeks, his power had not fully returned. It didn’t matter though. The Saiyan wouldn’t fight him now; he wanted this.

The doubt loomed.

Again, Buu shoved it back.

Buu had been so slow, so mindful. He’d taken his time and here was his reward for his patience: Vegeta laid bare and needy on the bed, _Buu’s_ bed. It was the same bed that the Saiyan came willingly to each night since Buu had carried him out of the woods, discarded his sullied scraps of clothes, cleaned him and nursed him back to health. Vegeta didn’t leave him anymore, didn’t shoot off into the sky as he’d done at the close of so many long and torturous days spent together yet still so distant. Buu remembered how he used to dream of the day when the Saiyan would truly be his. He couldn’t have imagined, even then, that it would be so delicious.

It was time now. Buu would take him, make him his in a way that was always meant to be. Vegeta felt it too, Buu could tell. His slight frame vibrated in anticipation of it.

When Vegeta spoke up with a broken plea, Buu drank it in with a smile. The wanton Saiyan, so racked with pleasure, was calling for an end to his blissful suffering, begging Buu to take him quickly like they both needed. At least that’s what Buu heard.

Vegeta’s voice, though fully recovered in the weeks since his return, was now only weak from disuse and Buu had to lean down further to better hear, letting his hips rest against the pert ass.

“Please,” came the cracked voice again. “No more. I ...I can't.”

Buu froze for a moment, then jerked away as if Vegeta’s skin had become searing hot.

Lurid images flashed in his mind of the dark day he’d followed a cry into the woods to find a horror he’d never imagined. Something in his gut clenched tightly and didn’t let go.

Had he let himself forget so easily?

It had been three weeks since Buu had found Vegeta and brought him back. The bruises and scuffs had all faded and his energy was building up quickly. But what of the other wounds, the ones Buu couldn’t see? 

He’d let himself be blinded by his own impatient desire to pick things up where they’d left off but now, as he looked down over the stripped and quavering body beneath him, his vision was finally clear.

Strong Saiyan teeth clenched down hard behind quivering lips, as if to cage in the cries. Formidable limbs, which had surely recovered enough strength to struggle, lay limp and lifeless on the mattress. The subtle erratic trembling that was neither from rapture nor chill racked the bare figure from head to toe. Most alarming of all were the glistening dark eyes, deep an intelligent, once home to a natural perceptiveness and endless defiance, which now only stared into the wall with naked despair.

Buu felt like he’d been doused with a bucket of ice water. As the cold reality of the situation sunk in, he realized what had been creeping in the back of his mind for so long.

It was time to find Bow.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd like to thank the patient readers and my awesome beta, Rush_Toward! Thanks guys, the next chapter will be up soon.


	22. The Confrontation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Buu confronts Bow.

It wasn’t difficult to find Bow. The fledgling mutant was never far behind.

“Did I not return him to you?”

“What was left of him.”

Bow didn’t even try to hide his grin.

“You went far, Bow. I don’t ask much of you. I let you do what you want, never limiting or caging you in. I gave you every privilege-- a world to play in. I only made small requests.”

“I didn’t kill him.”

Buu tried to level his breathing.

“Did he not crawl to you?” Bow offered.

“He did.”

“Did he not call out to you?”

“You did a fine job of weakening his resolve, Bow, but I noticed you didn’t stop there.”

“Your Saiyan is a hard-headed one. It took a lot to break him.”

Images flashed in Buu’s head of Vegeta in the dirt, clothes torn and skin damp with sweat and other fluids, particularly between his thighs. His small frame wretched and twisted to recoil from Buu’s hand as it reached out to comfort him. It wasn’t longing or lust that made him tremble, but pure and intuitive terror.

“Break him you did.” Buu said to the ground.

“Was it difficult to extract the Dragon Balls?” Bow asked off-handedly, reclining on the gnarled tree trunk he was sitting on. “He stretched more easily than I thought he would. A few times, I was sure he would tear, but,” and there was a hint of disappointment in his deep voice. “Saiyan flesh is strong.”

Buu inhaled deeply and slowly released.

 

In fact it had been a grueling task getting the balls out.

The unnatural swell of Vegeta’s belly and the band of Bow’s flesh strapped between his thighs was indication enough that the younger mutant had done more than give Vegeta a stern reprimand for his actions.

When Buu had disposed of the obstructing appendage, he was disheartened when-- whatever it was-- didn’t simply slide out. Vegeta’s bruised entrance was swollen shut and looked ever so tender.

Buu would have liked to take his time, to be gentle with Vegeta, but the Saiyan’s opening was already so stretched that he could easily slip three fingers inside as he reached for the mysterious object. It was only the distress the prodding seemed to cause Vegeta that made Buu hesitate. The object would not be dispelled painlessly. Vegeta’s battle-seasoned body had already begun mending itself, but with the band of Bow keeping him from ejecting the foreign object, the Saiyan’s efficient system had been forced to begin its healing process around it.

He felt the perfectly smooth, glassy surface of the thing with the tips of his fingers and instantly knew what it was and, if he knew Bow, that it wouldn’t be alone.

Vegeta’s body shuddered and tensed as if now trying to keep the bulky orbs inside.

Buu whispered soft encouragement, stroking the tangled mane. Unconscious though he was, Vegeta seemed to react to his gentle presence. His slight body pressed back needily into Buu’s, seeking relief from the growing discomfort inside him as the balls slowly traversed his tender bowels.

“That’s it, that’s it.”

Buu braced the Saiyan against himself and tried to ease the passage of the Dragon Balls with his fingers as best he could. As he grazed the cool marble though, something kept happening that made Vegeta’s whole body seize up and shiver. Buu also noticed, when this happened, that Vegeta’s cock would give a slight leap. He pushed it out of his mind and focused on the task at hand.

As the overworked muscle of Vegeta’s hole stretched taut around the widest part of the first Dragon Ball, the half-conscious Saiyan went so gravely silent that Buu feared for a moment he’d stopped breathing. Finally, as the ball popped wetly free, Vegeta let out a desperate sob and his chest rose and fell with trembling breaths.

Each ball was easier than the last. Buu remained fastened to Vegeta, soothing him the entire way.

Vegeta’s body was reduced to a shuddering heap of limbs when all seven were finally out. At last, he would be able to rest after what was sure to have been a harrowing ordeal.

As Buu carried Vegeta back to the newly crafted bed in the hut, he felt Bow’s presence behind him, but the fledgling mutant was nowhere to be seen.

Buu had allowed his creation to drift from his mind but, like in life, Bow never drifted too far. Every anguished howl, every sleepless night, every flinch and recoil suffered by the Saiyan on Buu’s watch was a haunting reminder that Bow had a debt.

The rebellious young mutant would need to answer for his actions and now the time had come.

Buu rounded slowly on the lounging mutant who, for three weeks, had been looming in the back of his mind like a dark cloud in the distance. As he looked into the deep red eyes, which were not so unlike his own, Buu thought for a moment, that he saw recognition there, understanding, like Bow knew what was coming.

Buu reflected briefly on the slight hesitation in his arm as he extended it out in front of him. It took him a moment to pinpoint the name for what he felt growing in his chest while the ball of energy grew in his palm. Finally, he placed it. Regret. He noted it, tucked it away, then released the blast.

 

When Vegeta wasn’t bathing in the lake, or picking vegetables in the garden, he was resting, at Buu’s insistence. The bed in the upper story of the hut was enormous and Vegeta guessed by its proportions that Buu hadn’t actually seen a bed before constructing it and overcompensated as a precaution.

It was not only the size of three king-sized beds pushed next to each other, but obnoxiously comfortable. Vegeta didn’t know how many pandas had to die to make it but it was the softest bed he’d ever laid in. Even Bulma’s family, with their vats of wealth, didn’t know beds this gluttonously cozy. Even in his childhood memories as prince of Vegeta, he couldn’t recall experiencing such opulent repose.

Beneath Buu’s watchful gaze, Vegeta had to physically restrain his own rapturous moans every time he crawled into it. When Buu asked him how the mattress suited him, the Saiyan would manage a mollified nod. There were few indignities Vegeta had been spared in the mutant’s presence, but he couldn’t bear giving Buu the satisfaction of knowing he’d made the aged Saiyan more comfortable than he’d ever been in his life.

The feathery bliss engulfing his limbs was a distant thought now however.

Earlier that morning, Buu had left the hut with barely any explanation. The mutant had been behaving strangely since the previous night, which was becoming a fog to Vegeta.

 

Vegeta had been washing up at the lake, while Bow watched from the shore, as he often did. When his host wasn't watching, he assisted Vegeta directly. In the Saiyan's recovery, Buu would act as a leaning post or even help bathe him. Up until then, it had always been with the clinical detachment of a nurse. This time, however, Buu stared with a brimming antsiness, as though he was barely restraining an urge to lunge out of his skin. His eyes pried and lingered in a way that was neither caring nor clinical. It wasn't with concern for the Saiyan's well-being that his eyes followed Vegeta's hands where they roamed intimately over his naked skin.

Afterward, Buu accompanied the Saiyan up to the hut's upper story like so many nights before, but as they ascended the steps, the feeling of something being off hit Vegeta again. In the dim passageway, Buu stuck close behind him, bumping into him occasionally in his poorly-disguised haste to get them to the bedroom. Once there, Vegeta didn't resist as Buu began undressing him. Over the weeks, the Saiyan had grown accustomed to Buu's hands on him and didn't flinch as they slid beneath his clothes and peeled them away. What was new was that, when Buu got down to his fitted briefs, he didn't stop. Slowly, he slid the clinging garment down, over the bulge of his thighs, past his knees, and over the mounds of his calves, finally kneeling to let them pool around his ankles.

Buu stayed on his knees as he proceeded to examine Vegeta's naked body. Even kneeling Buu was an imposing figure and had to crane his neck down to bring his mouth to Vegeta's member.

Vegeta looked away, face burning. He should have been fighting, knocking Buu back, but his limbs felt paralyzed and his mind beckoned him into the numbing blackness. For a while, he fought it, grasping for lucidity, but eventually, the blackness won out.

Far away, in the depths of his mind, he couldn't gauge how long he stood there with Buu kneeling before him. The mutant's cavernous mouth didn't keep to his cock but explored, hungrily following the paths Vegeta's hands had made earlier when he'd bathed himself.

At some point, Buu had moved them to the bed, where Vegeta was roused from his mental fortress by a sudden breech of his physical body.

Like every other part of the Buus', their tongues had elastic abilities. The wet, wormy thing dove into him without end. Vegeta's muscles seemed to remember their strength and jerked to life, all working to pull his body up the bed to dislodge the assailing thing. Vegeta clawed at the sheets, his back curling and hips bucking as he desperately tried to escape the slick appendage deeply invading him. Despite his impassioned efforts, Buu's superior strength held his thighs firmly against the mattress.

The alien tongue twisted and wriggled and Vegeta didn't know how much of it had extended and expanded inside of him. Finally, seeing no escape from the prying touch, Vegeta, once again, sought out refuge in the blackness.

He came to as Buu withdrew. He knew what would come next, and just as well that he could do nothing to stop it. Yet, as he felt Buu's hips settle behind his own, he heard a seizing cry. He was as shocked to find it was his own cracked and weakened voice as Buu seemed to be.

The mutant froze on top of him a moment before pulling away entirely.

Vegeta felt Buu's presence beside him on the bed until he finally dozed off, but the mutant didn't touch him again until the following morning when their hands brushed briefly as Buu handed him a plate of breakfast.

When Vegeta finished, Buu said he was leaving, but would return soon.

Vegeta didn't ask him to elaborate and Buu didn't wait for his response, but descended the stairs without another glance back. It was the first time Buu had left him alone on the premises since he'd woken up two weeks ago. He'd never even gone out of earshot.

Vegeta felt he knew where Buu had gone.

There had been a shadow over them, and what had happened last night somehow gave it shape.

Vegeta was in the garden when he felt the rise of energy in the distance. His breath caught in his chest as the power swelled to a climax before silently, sullenly fading away for good.

He finished picking vegetables for his lunch meal, then roamed the grounds for the rest of the day.

It was late when Buu returned and Vegeta was lying in bed, though he wasn't asleep nor tired at all.

Buu looked shaken but unharmed as he entered the room. If there had been a battle, it was quick, but somehow Buu didn't look like the victor.

The ancient creature was like a ghost as he moved aimlessly through the room before arriving at the foot of the giant bed, as if by chance.

When Buu's eyes found Vegeta, he seemed to be looking through the Saiyan more than at him.

"He's gone," he said, voice as hollow as his stare.

Vegeta instantly thought of the blast.

"Did you…" his eyes scanned Buu's form as his body unconsciously recoiled on the bed.

"No," Buu said. "I didn't absorb him."

Vegeta relaxed some but couldn't shake the sinking weight in his gut.

"If I'd absorbed him, I would have been different," Buu continued, answering the uneasiness that was surely clear on Vegeta's face. "I wouldn't have come back the same. Do you understand?"

Vegeta didn't understand. Buu hadn't absorbed Bow, yet the second mutant was gone. That could only mean that Buu destroyed him. But why would he do that? Why would he waste that power instead of taking it back?

But it wasn't triumph or power-lust Vegeta read in Buu's downcast face, but something else, something he couldn't place. He took in the strange sight before him of pink waxy skin, still striking in the dim room, the black eyes, like hollow sockets with bright red bulbs of irises, pointed down at the sheets. The smooth, prominent brows were strained in a way that made the mutant look aged and weather-beaten. It was an entirely unnatural look for the almighty being.

"It wouldn't have been me coming back to you now. I had to know you'd be alright." Buu looked up at Vegeta then, really looked. Those red and black eyes, sallow and starving, needing him to understand.

Finally, Vegeta thought he did.

If Buu had absorbed Bow back into himself, he would have transformed—into what, Vegeta didn't know. What the mutant seemed to be suggesting though was that it would be neither this Buu nor the Buu from the grove, but something else, possibly something worse. Certainly, absorbing Bow now, after all the younger mutant had become, would make for a very dangerous mix. Vegeta would even go so far as to assume that the ensuing transformation would be the worst of all of them. Buu himself seemed unsure of what would happen, but knew enough not to want to risk Vegeta's safety, which, the Saiyan now realized, was really what Buu was trying to say.

Buu killed Bow for Vegeta.

Vegeta didn't move as Buu slid into the bed next to him and pulled him close.

It was an odd thing to grasp, the demise of his second tormentor at the hands of his first.

Vegeta wondered warily if Buu was going to expect anything from him- a thank you, something else. But the weary mutant only held him, and eventually his eyes drifted closed and his breathing became slow and even. It crossed Vegeta's mind that Buu was sleeping, which was another strange look for his caretaker. He hadn't seen Buu do anything like rest in all the time they'd been sharing the hut. Still, that seemed to be the case. Exhausted emotionally and physically by the confrontation and resultant destruction of his only fledgling and comrade, Buu was now sleeping.

There would be no such escape for Vegeta however. Instead, the Saiyan lye in his bed in a kind of trance. Even after Buu seemed to sink into a deeper rest and shifted away on the mattress, Vegeta was wide awake, eyes adjusting to the blue-grey hue of the domed ceiling. The dull surface was free of any distinguishing features and Vegeta felt like he was staring into an endless void.

Bow was dead. Bow was dead and Vegeta felt no relief from it.

Two smiling young boys skipped into his vision and chased each other across the ceiling. One of them was small with thick, unruly hair too much like his father's. The other, taller, had sharp blue eyes and a cunning grin that always proceeded mischief. Although the second boy was older, he was still young- too young. From beneath the cap of lavender hair, he smiled that elusive smile, the one he hid for fear of appearing childish in his father's eyes. Oh, how Vegeta loved seeing it. It melted his core and made him doubt that he ever cherished anything before it.

Even when he closed his eyes he couldn't stop seeing the boys, couldn't stop hearing their lilting laughter echoing in the empty darkness.

When he opened his eyes again, the Namekian and grown son of Kakarot flashed briefly in his vision before melting back into the blue-grey.

They were all dead. The fact was more resonant now than when he'd first learned that Buu had absorbed them. The difference now was that there was no room for hope. He had failed them all over again but now, there was a permanence to it.

Vegeta didn't notice until his breath was rattling through his chest and the mat, blank surface of the ceiling was rippling before his eyes, that he was crying.

He tried to stop it, turning over and snarling into his pillow, but the hot tears kept seeping out, soaking his cheeks and bleeding into the fine cotton. Before long, his breaths were quick and stuttering and he was hiccuping uncontrollably.

The atrocities Bow had committed on him were suddenly small and insignificant in the face of this awful new truth. Two days in hell couldn't overshadow the staggering loss of his only son.

His heaving breaths, which surly shook the very mattress, must have woken Buu because soon the mutant's warm mass was wrapped around him again and a large hand was gently stroking his hair.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the extended wait, guys. Classes have started and I'm pretty swamped. I do plan to continue writing in my free time though, so don't fret! Thank you all for the comments. I love hearing what you think about how the story is going, so please feel free to share your thoughts. Thanks again!


	23. New World

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With Bow gone and Buu subdued, Vegeta struggles with his purpose in this new world.

Vegeta didn’t fight Buu anymore and it wasn’t because he heard Dende’s voice in his head telling him to stay on Buu’s good side. In fact, he hadn’t heard from Dende for months. The Guardian of Earth, whose voice had acted as his personal conscience, even in his absence, had gone without a trace. Vegeta was alone again but more so now than he’d ever been before. Now, he didn’t even have his pride to keep him company. His walls that once guarded him had been wrought to pieces, leaving him bare.

The dreams of thorns and shady groves and horrible cackling laughter in the dark had also stopped. In their place, Vegeta dreamt of a dim, familiar space, invaded and claimed and a plain rock wall he would stare into to eternity while his body was plied and dissected. In his dreams, he never saw who it was behind him, but felt every touch as he was helpless to stop them.

Then he would wake and find himself encircled in the same waxy pink skin that trapped and defiled him in the dreams. Still reeling from the nightmare, Vegeta would spring into action, fighting to escape his tormentor’s clutches, only to find that it was not Bow but _Buu_ lying next to him. The senior mutant would brace him against his chest, shushing softly until Vegeta realized where he was. He would drift off again to the sound of Buu gently whispering that Bow was gone and that Vegeta would never again have to return to the cave.

Later when he was well enough to travel, and Buu comfortable enough to let him leave his sight, Vegeta did go back to the cave, only to retrieve his belongings, and found it completely leveled. The entire mountainside was reduced to ash.

Buu never told him he’d done it, but Vegeta was certain it was him—and not just because there was no one else left on the planet to suspect. He knew it was Buu because it wasn’t in Bow’s nature. Bow would have purposely left the cave intact so Vegeta could go back and be reminded of what had happened there, of what Bow had done to him in the only place he’d felt safe. Bow was just that kind of fucked-up.

No, it had to be Buu. Vegeta imagined that the cave represented as much of an affront to Buu as it did to himself, but in a different way. For Vegeta, the cave was a safe haven turned hell-hole over the span of a night. For Buu, the cave must have been a reminder of how someone else took complete possession of and utterly debased his cherished property. Like Bow, it needed to be destroyed.

Vegeta didn’t feel bad that the cave was gone. Sure, he’d grown comfortable in the meager cavity in the months of his hiding. It was as much a home as a last ditch refuge _could_ be. And if he were honest with himself he’d even say he’d grown attached to it. It didn’t matter now though. The moment Bow had set foot in it, it became something else entirely. It became his prison, his cage, his _second Grove_.

No, he didn’t feel bad at all that it was gone.

As he flew back to Buu’s camp, his new hideaway, he ran a mental checklist of everything that had been lost with the destruction of the cave. After a few minutes, he concluded that there was nothing of any real value there: Clothes, Buu had created a new set for him; living amenities, Buu had everything the cave had and more at the camp; Dragon Balls. This was tougher. Buu still had them holed up somewhere (he wouldn’t discuss them with Vegeta-- not that the Saiyan would be stupid enough to ask). The only thing Vegeta could think of that might represent a real loss was the radar. Without that, even if, through some miracle, they were able to beat Buu and reclaim the planet, they wouldn’t be able to find the Dragon Balls to wish everyone back. Yet, he supposed if Bulma had made one, she could make another.

The sudden thought of the blue-haired woman was strange and it twisted something in his gut. He didn’t often think of her anymore, or the others, but when he did, he felt a sudden urge to push the thought away the second it came up. He couldn’t explain why reminders of the others now made him feel so ill when they used to bring him comfort and a sense of purpose. Instead of anchors that held him in place, they were hollow like ghosts, and when he reached out for them, his fingers seemed to sink through. Were they retreating from him, or was he just letting them go? Even now, as he tried to picture their faces, they were hazy and unclear.

Maybe it was for the best, he concluded as he let them slip from his thoughts and focused on the flight back to camp.

There was no place for the Earth woman nor any of the others in this new world. Really, there wasn’t even room for Vegeta there. In order to adapt, he’d been forced to change himself, transform-- like Buu-- into someone new, someone with no son or wife for whose loss he would grieve (there was no place for grieving there), someone with no pride to weigh him down with shame for what he’d become, someone who could live out the rest of his life on a barren planet, sharing a roof and bed with the monster responsible for it. This way he could live. This way he could go on. Vegeta was gone. And the man in his place, well...

He landed in the clearing in front of the hut and found Buu standing in the doorway. The mutant turned away suddenly, as if to hide that he’d been waiting there since Vegeta had left.

As Vegeta approached, he didn’t miss the way Buu’s eyes darted over him behind the clear, expressionless face.

How strange. They both knew Bow was dead and that there was no more peril out there that Vegeta could possibly run into. Yet here Buu was, examining him for signs of distress or injury.

“Anything of use?” the mutant asked, voice strained to sound casual, like he didn’t know full well that there was nothing to find at the obliterated cave site.

Vegeta thought briefly of bringing it up then, watching Buu’s reaction. But the antsy way in which Buu avoided his eyes, and the hard line of his shoulders told Vegeta that there was no need.

“No,” he said.

Some of the tension in Buu’s posture seemed to fall away at that, and his face warmed.

Vegeta walked to the garden and Buu followed behind.


	24. A Presence on the Hilltop

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vegeta goes on a hike alone, reflecting on the man he's become and everything that lead up to this point. He has a plan to set everything right again and undo the damage he's caused for good.

 

With a little work, Buu allowed Vegeta to go out on his own more often and for longer periods of time.

This time, he wasn’t going far. As the Saiyan drifted further from the hut, Buu’s eyes lingered after him, as if looking away might lose him forever.

Vegeta had assured him gently that he would return, careful to keep his voice even and eyes steady. Buu had become very good at reading him and Vegeta couldn’t afford to get caught in this lie.

 

 

It was a sunny day. Vegeta found the trail near camp that Buu had shown him months ago when they’d first begun meeting. He found he quite enjoyed the peaceful walks beneath the trees now—the _hikes_.

It turned out that Bow hadn’t eaten all the birds on the premises and the sounds of their merry chirping followed Vegeta throughout his stroll. They seemed to be enjoying their vacant planet. He wondered if they knew that all the human’s had gone abruptly extinct. Did they care? Did they care that no human may ever walk the Earth again?

They chirped along excitedly.

Maybe they did know.

He hardly had cause to train anymore, not that Buu discouraged it. When Vegeta felt the urge, he would take to the sky above the hut and Buu would follow him outside, keeping to the ground. There was always something strange in the mutant’s stare as he watched from below. It wasn’t with lust that his eyes followed the rushing, jabbing form, but with a different kind of longing. Vegeta got the odd sense that the mutant wanted to _join_ him. They’d never sparred together before and the idea of it was strange. Still, Vegeta couldn’t imagine why, after everything else they’d done, Buu would hesitate at this.

The thought occurred to him that the mutant was afraid of hurting him.

When Vegeta would come down, sweating and panting after his solo sessions, that strange, wistful look would be gone from Buu’s face and replaced by another, more familiar one. The mutant would pull Vegeta into his enormous embrace and find some patch of skin to hungrily latch his mouth to-- kissing, sucking, licking, as if the show had worked up an appetite in him.

Vegeta had developed a sense for his companion, a near intuitive knowing for what the mutant craved and when. Sometimes Vegeta would watch him advance, knowing in his eyes and posture what the mutant wanted, and so he lifted his head to offer up his neck for Buu’s coiling tongue, or drop his arms so the mutant could embrace him. Sometimes Buu would emerge from the trees around the lake while Vegeta dried his naked limbs. When he saw the advancing mutant with that dark, intent look, Vegeta let the cloth fall, exposing himself to Buu’s appraising gaze. Buu’s hand would wrap beneath his arms, pulling his slight frame up to his mouth. He would kiss Vegeta deeply, his thrusting tongue meeting Vegeta’s own gentle lapping.

Still, Buu never forced himself on him the way he had in the grove. Instead, he seemed to follow Vegeta’s lead, only going where Vegeta allowed him. And Vegeta found himself allowing him _more_. He even took enjoyment from it. His body reacted to the way Buu touched him like a light turning on at the flick of a switch. Buu knew how to pull real pleasure from his body the way he learned to pull real meaning from his words and manner. Vegeta was helpless to stifle the shiver that overtook him when Buu kissed that spot on the inside of his thigh, and the wrenching gasp when Buu’s tongue finally dragged a long strip up the underside of his cock after an hour of only teasing glances and his hot breath on the enflamed skin. His stomach twisted at the thought of his own desperately bucking hips, and the warm tears that flowed down the sides of his face. He wanted to feel disgusted with himself, hatred like he used to, but he found he could muster less and less every day. It seemed this new man he’d become had no limit to his depravity.

Vegeta swiped a gloved hand across his forehead as he reached the summit of a rocky peak. From there he would be able to look out over the whole valley and even see the greyish mound of the hut.

Vegeta sat down on a half-sunken rock and took in the horizon. It was darkly beautiful for a planet that had been home to so much death. The perfectly cut clearing of the camp was alien amidst so much wild growth. He held out his hand like he was about to use his Galick Gun and closed one eye so he was blocking his view of the hut in the valley. It was more natural without it, and for a moment Vegeta could imagine a world without the Buu’s. He opened both eyes again and dropped his hand. The camp was back and the humans were all dead again. Oddly, he didn’t feel much different.

Dropping his gaze from the valley, Vegeta looked down at his hands. He found himself doing it a lot lately, as if trying to recognize them. He removed one glove to get a better look. Naked, his hand seemed even stranger.

His hands were Buu’s favorite. In the evening, the mutant had made a ritual of removing the gloves. Slowly, he would peal the leather away, then take each naked digit into his mouth, so careful to avoid his fangs as he suckled them, worshiped them. Vegeta couldn’t make sense to himself why he felt the gentle lapping on his fingers all the way down in the pit of his stomach. A tingling sensation went up Vegeta’s spine at the memory and he tried to shake it, but instead of settling, the feeling seemed to rest in the back of his head.

Someone was watching him.

Vegeta turned around. Maybe Buu had caught the lie somehow and he’d followed him up there. Vegeta honed in of the fleeting energy, but it seemed to only dance in his peripheral senses.

No, it wasn’t Buu, not a tangible presence. Still, he felt like he knew it.

It took a while to pinpoint where he’d felt it before. It reminded him of the tingling feeling he used to get when Dende would speak to him telepathically. The Namekian would be a passive presence in his mind, hearing his thoughts and responding but never affecting him, never imposing or taking up space. He was like a ghost. It had been a long time since he’d felt that airy presence, not since he’d scolded the Guardian and shut him out of his head.

He’d thought then that the Namekian was manipulating him. Now he wished he’d listened better.

What would Dende say to him now, given the way things had turned out?

He bowed his head and dug a boot into the dirt.

A medium sized beam of pure energy could burn straight through an unguarded body.

The warm wind blew over the summit, brushing gently over his hair. Vegeta inhaled deeply. He lifted his hand and watched the golden sphere, like a tiny sun, grow in his palm. When it reached the size of a Namekian Dragon Ball, he turned his palm to his chest.

Once he was gone, Buu would leave. There would be nothing to keep him there. Maybe he would be so affected, he would implode, destroying himself. Then Dende and the others could return and maybe Bulma could construct another Dragon Radar so they could revive the Earthlings and everyone else.

He turned his attention to the vast green valley bellow, beyond the clearing of Buu’s camp, out into the crystal blue horizon. He let the blissful song of the birds fill his head. The planet was still thriving after all it had been through, still beautiful and still glowing with life. Perhaps now, it would be allowed to blossom into the glorious organism it once was, before the Buu’s and before the Saiyans. He thought again of the lavender-haired boy and his elusive smile and felt a warm trickle down his cheek. He laughed.

“My son,” he said, and the tears flowed freely. “Until we meet again.”

The subtle tingling in the back of his head grew, almost throbbing, and Vegeta turned swiftly to look around the hilltop again. Someone was there. The ball of energy dissipated in his hand.

“D-Dende.” He didn’t know why he said it but the presence he felt at that moment was so powerfully familiar that it pulled the name from his lips.

But the hilltop was empty and quiet except for the soft whisper of the wind and the oblivious birds still singing in the trees.

When it was clear he was truly alone, Vegeta relaxed. Yet the strange weight in his mind didn’t lift. It was there more prominently now, almost solid, like an anchor.

For some reason, he drew strength from it. It didn’t threaten him, but made him feel like he wasn’t alone.

Vegeta blinked around at the valley down to his empty palm. His eyes fell again on Buu’s camp.

He had a purpose there. It was worn and faded now but still there.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So soon?! Is this a fluke? Merry Late Christmas! I hope you guys had a nice holiday (if you celebrate that. If not, enjoy the chapter anyway!). This was fun to write. The next one is in the works and will be up soon!


	25. Chipping Away

Vegeta tasted the bitterness of the words long after they’d left his mouth.

It had taken a few days to plot out a course of action, and a few more still to build himself up to act on it.

It was late in the evening and he and Buu were sitting in the window.

“Why, Vegeta?” The mutant asked at last. He didn’t seem upset by Vegeta’s request, more confused.

“I…” Vegeta looked at the ground between them. He’d known he would have to explain himself and had planned for it. Still it didn’t make it any easier. “You were right. When you said…when you said we had something, Kakarot and I.” His words were slow and clunky, and he still couldn’t meet Buu’s eyes. “We…we were the last full-blooded Saiyans. W-we only had ...each other.”

Vegeta glanced up briefly to find Buu’s quantifying eyes only on him, measuring his words. There was no rush in the look. Vegeta had all the time in the world. Yet he felt a crushing weight on him. He couldn’t lie to Buu. The mutant knew him too well, his vocal vairiations, his mannerisms. Buu would see through any illusion, he was sure. Or maybe it was that Vegeta’s walls had been worn so thin that he’d lost the ability to hide anymore. Either way, Vegeta had to speak carefully and say enough to gain Buu’s trust, but not so much that he’d be caught.

The trouble was, Vegeta wasn’t sure any of it was a lie.

“We… bonded in a way. S-since he’s been gone, I feel…that I’ve lost something in myself.”

He waited. There was nothing more to say, at least he couldn’t think of anything.

Finally, he looked up to see how his explanation was received, but Buu was looking toward the other side of the room. Vegeta followed the tired gaze, and saw that it seemed to land on the curled seat on which Bow used to perch.

How ridiculous. Of course he hadn’t been convincing. Buu had surely seen right through every word. Did he honestly think he could ask Buu such a thing and not sound suspicious? _Oh Buu, before I forget, would you mind transforming into Kakarot for while? No reason, just for kicks. Certainly not planning anything underhanded. Certainly not trying to overthrow you._

Surely, there had been a more effective choice of wording, one that would be more believable. He wished, not for the first time, that Dende were there to guide him through this, and cursed himself again for shutting the Namekian out.

The anchoring presence in his mind seemed to grow heavier though, steadying him.

“Is this what you want?”

Vegeta, who had been lost in his torrential thoughts, turned to see, not Buu glowering down at him in his gleaming pink form, but the gentle features of Goku, whole and complete, with his orange gi and muddled hair, from beneath which those amiable dark eyes stared down at him almost sympathetically.

Vegeta swallowed hard, feeling an ache in his chest. Although he opened his mouth to respond, he only managed a nod.

 

 

 

To say the least, Buu was uncomfortable; the disguised mutant moved with the wariness of someone waiting to step on a landmine. It wasn’t that he was awkward in Goku’s body, not at all. In fact, he reacted fluidly and with an instinct that suggested he’d never been more at home. Vegeta even caught him doing some trademark Goku gestures without seeming to realize it. If he had to guess, Vegeta would say that the reason Buu was uneasy was the very fact that he _was_ so comfortable in this form.

When the mutant’s shoulders began rising in a dopey shrug or when his arm started moving upward to scratch idly at the back of his unruly head, he stopped them, eyes darting sheepishly to Vegeta to see if he'd noticed, an act which ironically only made him look more like the moronic Earth Saiyan. Buu couldn’t seem to control it and Vegeta was transfixed by his struggle. He found himself in the unnatural position of trying to make conversation with Buu, if only to take the mutant’s mind off of whatever was happening to him. He never thought he’d be grasping to speak with Buu.

For the most part, Buu seemed too occupied with fighting off his Goku mannerisms to contribute meaningfully to any topic, and fortunately for Vegeta, didn’t seem to notice the clumsiness of the Saiyan’s attempts at conversation.  

All of a sudden, it became clear to Vegeta why Buu never sparred with him. It wasn’t that he was afraid of hurting him, as Vegeta had always assumed, but that it made him feel too much like Goku.

Later in the evening, as they approached the hut, Buu transformed again. Although he sighed in relief as he assumed his true form, Vegeta couldn’t help noticing the tense strain that never left his shoulders.

 

 

 

A few days later, Vegeta approached Buu again with the request. He didn’t know what gave him the gall, but he did it and Buu, once again, responded with a sudden heavy silence that made Vegeta fear he’d crossed a line. Then, as miraculously as the first time, Goku emerged from the mutant flesh.

They walked together along the same path and Buu, in his Saiyan form, seemed only a little less tense than the time before. Still, it was enough for Vegeta to catch a few more of Goku’s quirks slip past the mutant’s guard.

Buu was more willing to speak this time, but Vegeta wasn’t sure it was an improvement. When he heard Kakarot’s gentle, curious voice come out, a chill ran down Vegeta’s spine and every muscle in his body went rigid to brace itself.

It was just too _norma_ l. From the outside, Vegeta knew that they looked like the two Saiyans taking a casual stroll in the woods, maybe on their way to a routine spar. It was so convincing. The man’s hair was too frazzled, his eyes too black, his stare too coaxing and genuine. Not that Vegeta ever forgot that it was really Buu beneath the false body and voice.

He reminded himself regularly throughout their journey that this wasn’t too different from the situation in which he’d found himself on the day that the other Saiyan had been absorbed: Buu in Kakarot’s form, convincing and genuine. Even the trees of the surrounding woods seemed to crane overhead to engulf them in shadow, mirroring the dense dark of The Grove.

He kept on his guard, maintaining a wary distance between them. How odd it was that Vegeta was now more comfortable in Buu’s presence than in Kakarot’s.

Vegeta didn’t need to worry that his distance would seem inconspicuous; the mutant too seemed reluctant to be near him and shrunk away when Vegeta accidentally swerved into his personal space or when a narrow passage  forced them to squeeze into a closer proximity to one another to get through.

This was a strange reaction from Buu, who had forced physical contact on Vegeta more times than the Saiyan could recall now. Vegeta thought on it as they walked along the trail. They came upon a grassy clearing that opened out into a large view of the night sky, so they decided to sit and watch the stars for a while.

They talked deep into the night, not about anything important. They talked about the neighboring galaxies, the distant ones. Vegeta was reminded of an old story from his early raiding days with Napa and Raditz, and shared it with Buu. He’d never shared it with anyone, although it was one of the few truly happy memories he had from that period in his life. They were both laughing by the end of it.

Buu looked more relaxed than Vegeta had yet seen him in this form. He held his middle as the joyous sound came rolling out, and seemed unable to stop it. Vegeta’s own laughter was dying down and Buu was still roaring, but the laugh was starting to come rougher, and seemed to be more of a cough. It became hoarse and appeared painful. Buu curled in on himself, trying to stifle it.

Vegeta sat up, concerned, but Buu held up a hand to stop him as the coughing slowed.

Leaning back finally, Buu took a deep breath.

Vegeta watched him. It was late and he’d been running out of things to say before the coughing episode. Out of nowhere, he'd pulled that obscure raiding story. He'd never thought of telling anyone that. But then the violent coughing episode had happened and wiped his head completely blank. Still, he felt a need to keep going, to keep Buu in this form for as long as he could. Something compelled him, and somehow he felt certain it was the right thing to do.

But Buu was already rising to his feet. After a last silent glance to the stars, he turned contentedly down to Vegeta, his eyes drooping slightly. Vegeta had never known the mutant to be tired and until then had assumed that the only reason Buu ever slept at all was because Vegeta did. Yet here he was, looking exhausted, albeit it was in Goku’s body. Still it was strange.

“I think I’m ready.” He said and Vegeta couldn’t argue. It was late.

They walked back to the camp. Vegeta was surprised that Buu kept Goku’s form all the while.

As they approached the hut, Buu still hadn’t transformed, but gave a broad yawn, just as the Earth Saiyan would.

Vegeta followed Buu inside warily and watched him climb the steps to the bedroom.

Buu turned to look at him and Goku’s voice said, “What?”

Vegeta’s eyes swam up and down the mutant’s body before looking away.

Buu looked down at himself and seemed genuinely surprised at what he saw.

“Oh,” he said and within seconds, the surface of his body was rippling away to revealing it’s natural shape. When he was done, Buu— actually Buu now—regarded the Saiyan watching him again. “Are you not going to sleep?”

Vegeta took a moment to gather his voice.

“No. I’m going to train.” He mumbled. “Not tired.”

Buu nodded, but his eyes lingered on him a moment before he continued up the stairs.

Vegeta waited a few seconds after Buu’s legs vanished from his sight, before sprinting out the door. He didn’t know why— it wasn’t as if it would give him better reception. Still he stood there, fists clenched, face to the sky, and eyes clamped tightly shut. He reached with all his will— for what, he wasn’t sure. It wasn’t his gift, he knew but maybe, if Dende was receptive, he could signal him somehow.

He needed to reach him, needed to alert him to what was happening here. Buu was changing, Buu was tired, Buu was forgetting to transform out of Kakarot’s body. This was something. This was significant.

His tongue darted out across dry lips and he tried to steady his breathing. He’d never been one to meditate, but he thought, if he pushed hard enough, he might be able to force his mind into the calm state it would take to communicate across galaxies. _Dende, Dende, Dende_ , he urged, and might have even whispered aloud.

There were so many things he needed to say to the Namekian. Buu was changing. There was hope. What should he do next?

For about an hour Vegeta stood out there, trying to force his mind to do something that it either lacked the capacity or tranquility to do. With a curse, he resigned in frustration.

Upon opening his eyes, he saw that the moon was high in the sky.

What if the others were dead and that’s why he couldn’t reach them. What if he’d been too late and all of this was in vein.

The weighty presence in his mind made itself known again and Vegeta honed in on it. 

 It was warm and comforting and solid. He couldn’t be certain, but he felt deep down that it was a kind of answer.


	26. Demolition

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After twice successfully getting Buu to transform into Goku for him, Vegeta is having a tough time finding an opportunity to get the mutant to transform again. Buu is behaving strangely and Vegeta needs to come up with another plan soon or all of his progress will be lost.

 

Although Vegeta was eager to get Buu to transform for him again, the opportunity to ask the mutant had become increasingly evasive. This was distressing for Vegeta, who worried that if he didn’t get Buu to transform again soon, all of his progress would be lost.

Buu grew more distant with every passing day and soon, barely acknowledged Vegeta, turning away when the Saiyan entered the room or leaving altogether. Since that last transformation, nearly two weeks ago, they no longer shared the large bed in the upper story of the hut, and Buu seemed have grown disenchanted with the mortal practice of sleeping. Instead, the omnipotent creature traveled elsewhere throughout the night, returning only at dawn, and often vanishing again for long periods in the day.

The devotion and favor Buu had once showered upon Vegeta was diminished. They were becoming estranged, a prospect which, at one time, would have been a great relief to Vegeta, but which now presented a disheartening problem: How could Vegeta get Buu to transform into Kakarot again if he couldn’t even get near the mutant long enough to pose the question?

One day, as the lone Saiyan was training high above the camp, he looked down and saw Buu emerging from the hut. Inspiration struck him then and without a moment’s delay, Vegeta thrust a blast downward. The mid-sized energy ball hit squarely between the feet of the unsuspecting mutant, who froze on the spot.

“How ‘bout a spar, Buu?” Vegeta called down, a bating grin on his face.

Slowly, Buu turned his face up to regard him. He didn’t answer or react in any visible way, and for a split second, Vegeta thought the mutant might charge him in a rage. Instead, the unreadable mutant blasted off into another direction, sparing Vegeta no explanation or further acknowledgment. 

Indeed, it was proving to be a more and more challenging task finding time with Buu, who, Vegeta was now sure, was deliberately avoiding him, and the Saiyan thought he understood why. Buu was surely aware that Vegeta would try to ask again and to the mutant, saying that he wanted to see Kakarot was the same as saying he didn’t want to see Buu. It was a kind of rejection, and the all-powerful mutant had already shown how well he took rejection. Vegeta suspected that Buu was harboring a growing resentment for him and feared that there may be some retaliation in store if he didn’t come up with another plan quickly.

 

 

The next day, Buu left early in the morning, bypassing Vegeta entirely as the Saiyan feigned sleep in the giant bed. Carefully suppressing his energy, Vegeta followed shortly after.

Although it wasn’t far that Buu had traveled, Vegeta was forced to move slowly, so as to conceal his position and as a result, it’d taken him hours to reach Buu’s location. Through the trees, Vegeta finally spotted his reclusive companion.

He was standing on a precipice, his back facing Vegeta, apparently looking out over the valley below.

Although a safe distance divided them, Vegeta was close enough to see the orange gi covering much of the tall body and the dark burst of hair fanning out from the top of his head.

“Kakarot…”

No sooner did the name leave his lips did the man on the cliff turn around and look directly at him.

Vegeta had been so startled by the sight of Goku and _not Buu_ standing there that he’d stopped cloaking his energy, and that split second had been enough time for Buu to lock onto his exact location.

Vegeta jerked back instinctively as if to hide himself in the foliage, but it was no use. Buu had caught him.

The mutant materialized in front of him and Vegeta stumbled backward in surprise.

It was Buu again, all traces of Kakarot’s form gone.

“What are you doing here, Vegeta?” the mutant asked, voice even and face concealing.

Vegeta steadied himself. “I followed you.”

“Why?” Buu’s response was quick and interrogatory.

“I… wanted to know what you were doing.”

Buu considered the answer a moment, a brow tweaking upward slightly.

“Oh? Did you miss my company, Vegeta?” He tilted his head in a condescending way that made Vegeta clench his jaw to bite back a retort. “Or was it something else you wanted,” the mutant continued.

Vegeta gauged the dark look and fought the urge to step backward. It had been a long time since he’d seen this side of Buu, the bating side, the side that lusted for destruction.

“What was it you said yesterday?” Buu’s red eyes drifted upward as if to remember. When he found it, the curve returned to his lips. “ _’How ‘bout a spar?_ ’”

For a moment, something in Buu’s face flashed and Vegeta was reminded alarmingly of Bow, taunting and sadistic. Dazed by the resemblance, the Saiyan had only an instant to react before the blast was screaming toward him.

He thrust himself into the air to narrowly evade it, followed moments later by Buu.

Vegeta blocked the kick aimed at his head and the barrage of fists that came after.

His shock at the sudden turn of events and at what he was sure he’d seen when he arrived, had him on the defensive. Had he really seen Kakarot there? Why would Buu have taken that form? He was still trying to piece it all together as each blunt impact racked his body. He wouldn’t last long if he didn’t start fighting back. Letting the adrenaline drown out his thoughts, Vegeta sent his first howling blast at Buu’s middle as the mutant was raining punches down on him.

It seemed Buu hadn’t been expecting Vegeta to dish out such a critical blow and didn’t guard against the blast. It had eaten straight through his chest and for a few seconds, Buu only gaped down at the cavernous hole, before turn a smile up to Vegeta. The cavity in his chest sealed with a _pop!_ and Buu lunged forward again.

Vegeta was prepared this time. He shoved the thoughts from his mind and concentrated all of his mental a physical faculties on the fight. It had been so long since he’d fought anyone and there was something so natural and true about it. It called back visions from the foreign past when fighting was all he’d known. Gradually it became less of a struggle to shove the thoughts away. His body sank into the familiar feeling like a well-worn glove and it encompassed him. He began to fight like he used to, like a full-blooded Saiyan with nothing but his pride and his fury. He took as many blows as he gave and ignored his exhaustion like a distant memory. He only knew the battle, the reaction, the anticipation.

Somewhere in the far corners of his mind, Vegeta knew that Buu was stronger than him, but if the mutant was holding back now, Vegeta couldn’t see it.

Neither fighter paused, nor hesitated, nor stopped. It was all reaction and attack. Nothing else existed and nothing else mattered. The fact that it was Buu Vegeta was fighting quickly became inconsequential as well. It was just a being, a figure that represented everything holding Vegeta down, caging him in, and smothering him.

There were times when Vegeta turned and saw flashes of someone else entirely, someone familiar in orange and blue and gold, before the figure faded behind a blinding blast or vanished to evade his attack. Perhaps it was his imagination or evidence of his body’s exhaustion. He didn’t linger on it, but pushed forward.

Soon he was answering blows before they came and it was like an old dance he knew by heart. It was the dance of his blood and his bones. His opponent knew it too and they danced together tirelessly until the sun was low and they were both grounded, with nothing left to give but trudging punches and puffs of fizzled energy blasts, so physically exhausted they didn’t bother blocking anymore. Their movements were slowed and they both swayed beneath the weight of their own bodies. Vegeta’s aches had all merged into a single agony that both engulfed and numbed him, making him immune to any further pain.

He felt nothing now but need and hunger and fury, all of which blinded him and propelled his body forward. Vegeta hadn’t felt so much at once since the day The Look Out had vanished into a cloud of dust. So long had he been suppressing this hate and outrage and hurt in himself, needing to let it out but smothered by responsibility. Now he pummeled his opponent freely and embraced the pummeling he was dealt in return, at last feeling everything all at once. He was grunting and screaming his voice hoarse and didn’t hear anything but the pounding of his own heart and the smacking of shins and fists colliding with his frame. Blood in his eyes clotted his vision but he didn’t need to see his opponent to feel where the faceless being would go next.

He wasn’t sure who collapsed first but Vegeta soon became aware of the cool, itchiness of grass against the back of his neck and arms. It was the last thing he felt before blacking out.

 

 

Vegeta turned his head and saw the resting form of Goku lying beside him. Scuffed, tattered, bloodied in places, but otherwise the full-blooded Saiyan looked perfectly at peace. There was even a slight curve to his lips making him appear dreamy and content.

Vegeta knew this dream. It was the sparring dream. This was the part where they both stood up and went to their separate homes. Kakarot, predictably, would cordially invite Vegeta over for dinner and Vegeta, less cordially, would decline. He remembered he liked this dream.

As the overwhelming pain crept back into his limbs, Vegeta knew well that it wasn’t a dream. Still, he played it out regardless.

“You’re getting soft, Kakarot,” he croaked. “I can see you’ve been training with the half-breed.” He sneered despite himself.

The pain had completely resurfaced now. Vegeta scooted closer to the Saiyan beside him, grimacing against the stabbing pain that met him with every reintroduced muscle.

When he was within arms-reach of the other man, Vegeta’s eyes scanned every scraped and bloody inch of his face. His hands reached out to find if he was solid, or a wavering apparition. His trembling fingers met the soft, warm skin of a cheek.

“Kakarot,” came his cracked whisper.

The dark eye-lashes fluttered, slowly at first, then opened.

For a moment, the brows pressed together in confusion, but then eased as his eyes squinted through the bright sun-light to focus on Vegeta’s. 

The slight curve of busted lips broadened as Goku appeared to recognize the Saiyan lying next to him.

His own bloodied hand rose to Vegeta’s face, but before the calloused fingers could make contact, they froze.

Vegeta watched as the warm look on the Earth Saiyan’s face twisted and warped. His eyes widened and lips curled back over teeth in a grimace. Vegeta thought for a moment that the other Saiyan was reacting to the soreness of his body but quickly distinguished that the expression was more from horror than pain.

A cloud moved over them and their patch of forest went cool and dim.

As Goku stiffly retracted his hand, his whole body clenched up. He tried to crawl away from Vegeta but his limbs were rigid and uncoordinated.

Vegeta pushed himself to his feet and hobbled toward him, but with a sudden burst of strength, the recoiling man shoved him back.

Stumbling back, Vegeta watch as the other Saiyan curled into himself, looking hypothermic. Again, Vegeta went to him, kneeling down by the tucked, shivering head to better hear what the man was hissing through chattering teeth.

“ _Hot_ ”, he was saying. “ _So hot_.” Goku clawed at his gi.

Vegeta looked around wildly, then saw a stream at the base of the hill on which they were crouched. Hauling himself up to his feet, he dragged Goku down the slope as best he could while the Saiyan thrashed and fought him. Finally, giving out beneath his own weight and that of his comrade, Vegeta toppled over at the base of the hill, dumping Goku at edge of the shallow stream just in time. There, the  writhing man dunked his over-heated face into the cool water. Vegeta had hoped that would fix him but still, Goku seethed and hissed in some internal discomfort. Pushing himself up onto his hands and knees, the younger Saiyan began hacking and making retching guttural noises.

Vegeta moved forward again but this time Goku’s hand rose up to halt him. Vegeta expected a blast from the man who was clearly not in his right mind, but there was only stillness. Goku’s arm was steady and firm while the rest of his body shook uncontrollably and Vegeta sensed the significance in the pose even if the heaving man couldn’t voice it.

Amidst the retching, the glistening eyes beneath the black mop of hair rose just enough to meet Vegeta’s and in that moment, Vegeta saw both Goku and Buu simultaneously reflecting back at him. Their messages were the same: _Stay back._

The arm was only retracted once Vegeta reluctantly stepped back. The hacking continued for some time, and the older Saiyan started to see what looked like blood smattering onto the grass below the ducked head. Dark and thick, it was coming out in small mists at first, then bursts. Horrified, Vegeta was compelled forward again but as he neared, he saw that it wasn’t the deep maroon of blood that painted the green grass but black, pitch black. It was like inky sludge being forcibly expelled from the Saiyan’s body.

Vegeta felt sick and confused.

Goku was clutching his stomach as he vomited out the thick, tarry substance that now rushed from his mouth in gallons.

At long last, he seemed to be coughing up the last of it, hocking up only diluted globs from deep in his throat. Once he’d gotten it all out, Goku’s entire body went limp, and he rolled onto his back, limbs spread out over the grass like he was about to make an angle. He looked light and euphoric, like he might float away.

Vegeta could only stare.

The black ooze was sinking into the grass. Some spilled into the river and was carried downstream, diluting gradually until it was nothing but specks washing up onto the sand.

 

 


	27. Reunions

 

It was all a gauzy blur to Vegeta.

Not long after Goku had vomited black tar and collapsed by the river, there was a burst of light nearby and a rush of noise and movement. Before he could piece together what had happened, bodies were swarming around him.

Vegeta hardly noticed he was on his back on the ground until his drunken gaze settled on the unmistakable eyes of Dende above him, like beacons in a raging storm. Vegeta had been delirious and only vaguely aware of the healing hands hovering inches from his body, gliding up and down his chest and limbs, radiating warm energy. His attention drifted over to where Goku was still sprawled out on the grass. Beside the Earth Saiyan, the dark spot, which marked where he’d vomited the sludge, looked faint.

Vegeta wanted to redirect the crowd’s attention to the other man on the riverbank, to alert them that Kakarot too was in need of aid. He tried to summon his voice to verbalize this, but no words came. Vegeta couldn’t understand why no one was approaching the other Saiyan. His gloved finger reached out feebly, pointing in the direction of the grounded man, who looked far away and in darkness. Vegeta tried to muster his voice again, but only produced small, rasping noises, which were easily smothered by the chaos surrounding him.

Later, he would look back and know that he hadn’t been thinking clearly. At the time, he was running on very little energy and had just witness something horrific and inexplicable. If he’d been in any right state of mind, he would have known that the reason no one was healing Goku was that they needed to be sure that Buu was gone.

 

 

 

That day by the river had set everything in motion.

Earth’s recovery process was like a vast machine, in which all the parts performed their function quickly and efficiently. Vegeta had done his part and now the others were picking up from there. A new radar was immediately constructed, and once the Dragon Balls were assembled, wishes were made. In the blink of an eye, the slain Earthlings were revived and all the damage caused by the Buu’s was undone. At some point, Dende had contacted the elders of Namek and instructed them to gather up their own Dragon Balls to revive the remaining warriors who perished with Bow.

In a matter of a few days, the world was already on the fast track to recovery. Even The Lookout was restored to its former glory. All the people whom Dende had transported with him to the distant planet stayed a while to share in the celebration of Earth’s victory. Only a few noticed that something was missing, replaced by a hollowness beneath the surface. Still, the celebrations went on, louder, as if to drown out the odd feeling of something out of place.  

Vegeta had missed much of the merriment, having been in either bedrest or, as he’d overheard some call it, “a state of shock” after what had happened. Still, he was aware of what was going on around him. 

As momentous a step as the eradication of the Buu’s had been, he could not be pulled into the celebration, even as the honorary guest. So it was in his remote room in the guest wing of the temple where Vegeta spent his time, accepting a few of the meals Mr. Popo brought him, and even fewer visitors. He would never find the words to express his gratitude to the dutiful mystic for sending them all away, staunchly insisting that Vegeta needed his rest.

It was there in his quiet room in the temple, when everything had gone still in the lull of peaceful times, where Vegeta and the Guardian of the Earth finally met in private.

Neither spoke for a long time but Dende must have gauged, from the strained twitch of the Saiyan’s mouth and distinct evasion of his eyes, that Vegeta wanted to say something. Dende saved him the trouble.

“I’m—“

“I didn’t stay away because of what you said, Vegeta.” Dende cut in. “I admit, at the time I was hurt, but I understood why you would say those things, and maybe I needed to hear them.”

Vegeta stared, tight fists suddenly going limp in his lap.

“I stayed away because you were right. If anyone knew the way to defeat Buu it was you, and you did it. I should never have doubted you.” He gave a small smile, but somehow Vegeta felt no warmth from it. “There were so many times I wanted to intervene, reach out to you.”

The Namekian’s eyes seemed to stare beyond Vegeta then, as if he was remembering something, something that melted away the hollow smile. For a moment, Vegeta thought he saw fury in those naturally kind eyes and had to look away, feeling suddenly ashamed.

“I can’t tell you how hard it was to be so far away and unable to help you.”

Vegeta swallowed and cleared his throat.

“Well,” he said after a while. His voice was stiff. “It all turned out well in the end.”

They both fell silent.

 

 

His reunion with Bulma came two days later, when Vegeta was feeling apt enough to leave his quarters— that’s what they’d say anyway; few knew that it was really that he was feeling _apt enough_ to tolerate being around people.

They stood across from each other on the alabaster tiles of the Lookout courtyard, Vegeta with his arms folded and stare averted, Bulma steadfast and knowing. Within moments, the woman was bounding forward to embrace him.

There was only a moment's hesitation before his own arms rose to encircle her slighter frame.

She didn’t cry right then. He loved her for that.

He wondered briefly how much she knew, then stopped.

 

 

 

He didn’t know how long he’d held his son. It must have been a long time though. The boy, who’d at first seemed to return his father’s affection with equal fervor, began to go limp, and soon Vegeta felt the subtle pressing of small hands against his chest.

When Vegeta finally released him, he saw that Trunks' face had gone bright red beneath his lavender bangs and his eyes were shifting over across the courtyard to where Gotan was smothering his giggles and watching them. 

                                                                                                                                   

 

 

It was weeks before he and Goku exchanged anything more than curt nods and fleeting glances.

Vegeta would never admit to avoiding the man. Still, it was an odd coincidence that whenever the younger Saiyan came around, the former prince felt a sudden urge to be elsewhere.

The routine was not lost on the Earth Saiyan, who was making it clear that he desired his own meeting with Vegeta. Finding a private moment with the reclusive man was proving difficult however, not only because Vegeta seemed be avoiding him, but because, ever since his liberation of the Earth, Vegeta had gained a kind of celebrity status on the Lookout.

Everywhere Vegeta went, people-- old allies and complete strangers alike-- would stop him to impart words of profound gratitude and admiration for his heroism. It was a new thing to behold, and Goku could tell, whenever he caught sight of the awkward scenes from a distance, that Vegeta was far from at home in his new role as hero. Body stiffening and face coloring, Vegeta would break from the interactions as quickly as possible, nodding brusquely and striding off. Some bold admirers would go so far as to lunge into an embrace with the man, and Vegeta would go rigid as a board, mouth agape in silent horror.

It was in retreat from one such interaction out on the bustling courtyard, Goku and Vegeta met.  

 

* * *

 

 **A/N** : Closing in on the end, I just wanted to share this funny anonymous FF.net comment for the chapter, "Presence on the Hilltop":

_Anon: The presence is Hercule isn't it. I will bet good money it's him and the dog._

Great guess, Anon. A little late to share this I know, but it still makes me laugh. 

Hope you all enjoyed the chapter!

 

 


	28. "It Was Me"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Despite Vegeta's efforts to avoid the Earth Saiyan, Goku finally manages to get his attention. Alone at last, neither is prepared for what the other has to say.

 

Vegeta cut across the Lookout courtyard with Goku trailing close behind.

“Whatever it is you think you need to tell me, Kakarot, I don’t need to hear it.”

After what had been several failed attempts over the past few weeks at politely appealing for Vegeta’s attention, Goku was now visibly frustrated with the other Saiyan’s evasions and apparently through with the tentative approach.

“No,” Goku said firmly. “It doesn’t matter if you need to hear it or not. I need to tell you. And whether you’re listening or not, I’m gonna say it.”

Vegeta waited, brandishing his weary disinterest on his face and in his posture. This sudden assertiveness was strange from Goku, who’d been teetering around Vegeta’s visual periphery like a pitiful ghost since he’d awoken from his own recuperative rest. This new, bolder side of the third class Saiyan was no more tolerable to him.

“Let’s hear it then.”

“Well," Goku said, licking his lips and apparently arranging his thoughts. "When I was inside Buu…” Vegeta felt a lurch in his chest at name. Goku, evidently noticing the subtle reaction, faltered for a moment but trudged on. “All that time, I was never really a part of him.”

“I know, Kakarot. He couldn’t fully absorbed you. It’s fine, I already knew that.” Vegeta began to turn away, concluding that the other Saiyan was wasting his time.

“No, listen. Don’t wave me off.” Vegeta did stop, and when Goku seemed satisfied that Vegeta would at least wait, he continued. “I felt like I was being forced to watch those horrible things and I couldn’t do anything about it. The things he did to you. I just… It almost felt like _I_ was doing them… I couldn’t even be sick with myself because,” he scanned the ground, searching for the words. “In some way, I was _choosing_ to do them—even though it wasn’t really me.”

“Are you saying, Kakarot,” Vegeta began. His eyes, that had previously been wandering everywhere— _anywhere_ else, were now fixed wholly on the fidgeting man before him. “You feel you had some conscious part in what Buu did?” _to me,_ he didn’t say.  He couldn’t.

Goku faltered again. “I can’t really explain it, Vegeta, but…in a way, it felt like I was doing those things. Even though I couldn’t control my body.”

Vegeta looked away again, allowing his eyes to roam over the sunny courtyard.

Perhaps Buu had done a better job of absorbing Kakarot than they’d all thought. Vegeta was tired, hungry, and more removed from the whole ordeal than he knew he ought to be for someone who’d been so directly involved. He wanted to be disgusted with the man in front of him but he just couldn’t muster enough emotion for even that. He was just so tired.

“Was that all you needed, Kakarot?” He said at last, meeting Goku’s restless gaze.

Goku frowned. “Well…well, yeah, but—wait, Vegeta,” he stammered as the older Saiyan, deeming that a suitable end to the conversation, turned and walked away. “Vegeta!”

The former prince was cutting across the bustling courtyard and up the temple steps.

 

 

As he followed after Vegeta, Goku couldn’t help noticing the distinct quieting of conversation over every group they passed. It might have been his imagination, but he swore he could feel the eyes and ears of everyone in the courtyard honing in on the two of them. His skin prickled at the intrusive attention.

It was a relief when they entered the shielding walls of the temple.

“Do they all know?” He whispered, trying not to look back out onto the noisy patio.

Vegeta paused for a moment.

“No one knows but you and I. And Dende,” he added over his shoulder, before continuing toward the guest wing.

“ _Dende_ ,” Goku froze mid-step. His stomach twisted at the idea of the Guardian too knowing the depths of Goku’s shame. Then, as his eyes traced the form of the retreating Saiyan, it was clear to him how unconcerned Vegeta seemed about it. Somehow that eased Goku a little, and he resumed his pursuit.

Come to think of it, Goku thought as he strode to catch up with the man, nothing seemed to be bothering the older Saiyan, really. Although Goku had just confessed his potential participation in Vegeta’s rape and torture, Vegeta seemed barely moved by the information.

Somehow, the other Saiyan was different now. Goku could see it. Although, he supposed it only made sense. No one could’ve suffered so much and come out unchanged. Certainly, Goku would never be the same.

As they came upon the long hallway of the guest quarters, Goku felt his moment slipping away. Very soon, Vegeta would retreat into his private room and shut Goku out.

The idea of losing Vegeta again propelled Goku forward and without a plan or a hope, his arm was reaching out. If he’d given it a moment’s more thought, Goku would’ve decided against touching the reserved Saiyan. Still, he had to get him to stop, had to make him understand. If Vegeta shut him out again, there was no telling when Goku would ever get another chance to be heard.

Now, Goku’s mouth hung open, but no words were coming out. He could only watch as Vegeta’s large eyes regarded the hand on his arm.

Alone in the long, quiet hallway, they were both frozen. Vegeta had stopped retreating and now his attention was fully on Goku.

There were so many things the Earth Saiyan needed to say, needed to express before Vegeta was out of his reach again, but none of it would fix what had happened. Nothing could undo what his old friend had been through. It was unfair and overwhelming and he felt sick.

Vegeta’s sharp gaze now met his own and Goku felt an icy chill from it. Did Vegeta truly despise him so much? Was Goku’s touch so repulsive to him?  

The weight of responsibility and guilt was making itself home in Goku’s gut. _He’d_ done this to Vegeta. It was _him_. And yet Vegeta sought no retribution from him. He wasn’t allowing Goku to atone for what had happened. Instead he pushed him away and withdrew himself. Goku had seen first-hand the horror Vegeta had endured and knew that no lesser man could have survived such tortures with his mind intact. While Vegeta’s body may heal, his mind would bear the scars.

Goku’s eyes began to burn and the vision of the other Saiyan blurred to a bluish haze.

 

Although the large hand on his arm was not gripping him tightly enough to impede him, it was no less unwelcome.

Once he recovered from the initial alarm of the unsolicited contact, Vegeta allowed his gaze to assess the man attached to the offending hand.

Still and solemn, Goku stared at the ground. His shoulders were slightly hunched and Vegeta thought he looked like a great forlorn statue.

By the subtle tremor in his broad shoulders and the glimmer in the brims of his eyes, it was clear to the older Saiyan that Goku wanted something from him. Needed it, probably. Whether it was Vegeta’s blame or forgiveness, he desperately longed for it, and Vegeta was as yielding as a fortress.

Taking in the pitiful sight of the tearing, squirming, full-grown Saiyan, Vegeta consented at last. If Kakarot so badly wanted his judgement, he would give it to him.

“So, you felt aware of what was going on while you were inside Buu? Involved even?” Vegeta asked, voice sounding hollow even to his own ears.

Goku looked up.

“Did you enjoy it, Kakarot?” He spat and swatted Goku’s hand away like an insect.

“Vegeta?”

“Buu seemed to enjoy it very much. Can I assume that you were accessory to that as well?”

“No, Vegeta-" Goku was shaking his head.

“Buu said it thrilled you to see me bested. Was that not the truth?”

“What?”

Vegeta scanned the sincere confusion across Goku’s face and sensed that the third-class Saiyan truly had no idea what he was talking about. Every horrific detail of the day in the grove was a permanent imprint on the walls of Vegeta’s mind, despite how he fought to leave it behind him. It was in his bones now.

Yet Goku didn’t remember.

It was cruel and unfair that Vegeta had to carry this memory day and night while it appeared that Goku, the very monster of his nightmares, had been spared.

Still, Vegeta pressed on.

“ _’He loves to see you struggle. It’s what you do best?_ ’ was that not what the mutant said?”

“Vegeta, I--”

“Or were you not cognizant through that part?”

“I told you I wasn’t really in control of—“

“You want to be held accountable, Kakarot, yet you don’t want to know what for?”

Goku shut his mouth.

“Do you remember when he held me down and fucked me, Kakarot?”

Goku froze.

“He wore your clothes and your skin and made me watch as he fucked me in your body. Do you remember what he made me say as he did it?”

Goku swallowed visibly but didn’t find his voice. Vegeta could see Goku’s inner turmoil plainly on his face, and he drank in his anguish, finding a wretched thrill in it.

“You don’t remember,” Vegeta said finally. “But I will remember every second to my last breath.”

 

 

 

 

Goku watched Vegeta’s eyes glaze over. Although the horrible sneer was gone, Goku found he didn’t like the utter vacancy that took its place any better.

The sudden outburst, which had been more emotion than Goku had seen from the weary Saiyan since it all ended, had worn off. Now Vegeta was cloaked once more in stony detachment. 

Before Goku could make any sense of what had caused the sudden shift in Vegeta’s demeanor, the reticent Saiyan was walking away again. It wasn’t until he’d nearly reached the door to his room that Goku finally spoke up.

Upon hearing his words, Vegeta slowed to a stop.

“He made you beg,’” Goku said again, but couldn’t bring himself to say the words themselves. “That’s what Buu made you do. He made you call him by my name and beg him to …”

Vegeta turned around and Goku could see the stony shield beginning to crumble.

The third-class Saiyan moved boldly forward, seizing the moment while he had Vegeta’s attention.

“He threatened to use my body to hurt you if you didn’t. Then he did it anyway.”

Goku closed the gap between them, ignoring Vegeta’s flinch as he stepped into the slighter man’s personal space. When he spoke again, his voice was low.

“I remember all of it Vegeta, just like you do. But there were times when I was _more_ aware, and it almost felt like _I_ was the one moving.”

Vegeta stammered and took a step back, leaning away from the emboldened Saiyan.

“In the lake,” Goku persisted, and grabbed Vegeta’s wrist as it came up to push him back, “I remember bathing you as clearly as if it were me doing it. I remember running my hands over your thighs, how you started to lean into me.”

 

 

 

Vegeta felt a cold sweat forming on his skin.

The memory of the day at the lake shocked his mind like a bucket of ice water. He saw it clearly. It was the day he’d opened his eyes for the first time since Bow had released him. It was the day he’d been awoken by a touch that was so achingly gentle, it had actually fooled Vegeta into thinking he was safe. He’d opened his eyes then, needing to know whose touch could be so familiar, only to find that it had been Buu all along who’d been caring for him.

Even now, he was still haunted by those hands, with their soothing, knowing touches and the impossibly safe feelings they stirred. To have come from the very creature who had tortured and violated him with such malevolence on that day that had started it all… It was unfathomable. Still, something in Vegeta had known why the touch was so familiar. He couldn’t place it then, or maybe he just hadn’t allowed himself to, but a small part of him had known. It was the same part of him that, against all of his higher reasoning, understood how he and Buu could have had so strong a connection that the tyrannical mutant would kill everyone in the world, including his own fledgling, but spare Vegeta.

Vegeta couldn’t steady his breath. He was slowly coming down from the heights to which his mind had soared and his head was now swimming. As his vision took focus, it was immediately filled with the larger Saiyan, who, all the while Vegeta had been lost in memory, had been steadily advancing. Vegeta himself had been backing away without realizing it.

“I even remember your hands on my head,” Goku was saying as he brought Vegeta’s wrist, still held in his grasp, to his own face.

He was getting too close, too familiar.

“Kakarot—“

“Holding onto me as I tasted your skin.”

Vegeta felt suddenly very aware that they were alone in the long, dim corridor of the guest quarters, and that it was very unlikely that anyone would have need to walk down that way.

“I remember your taste, Vegeta.”

“That’s enough, Kakarot.”

“Your taste,” Goku hummed, as he brought the smaller hand to his lips.

Vegeta snatched it back. Goku didn’t seem to mind as his eyes slid slowly, blissfully open and fell on the cornered man in a daze.

Vegeta tried to move away but suddenly felt the wall at his back. They’d hit the dead end of the guest wing, having long left the reprieve of Vegeta’s own solitary room behind them.

“There were times I was so present, Vegeta, I forgot that it wasn’t me.” There was a stark clarity in Goku’s eyes and Vegeta thought he almost saw fear. “There were times when I was making choices— _me_ —little things like moving my arm or looking up, and I felt my body move like it was mine and I forgot that I _wasn’t me_.”

Vegeta was barely breathing, stuck in the frightening stare with no more room left to back away as Goku closed the final few inches between them.

“I didn’t do that to you, Vegeta,” he whispered, manic eyes seeming to glow in the dim, windowless corner. “After he absorbed me. You have to believe that I would never do that to you—it wasn’t me then but…“ He swallowed, hands eager, reaching out again. “There were times when it _was_. Do you understand?”

“Step away, Kakarot.”

Goku blinked and looked like he just noticed how close he was to Vegeta and how uncomfortable it was making the other man.

After a few moments, the taller Saiyan stepped back.

When he had enough space, Vegeta took a breath, straightened himself, and carefully sidled out from the corner. Without a backward glance, he crossed the hall to his designated room, went inside, and closed the door behind him. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We hopped around perspectives a little bit, I know. Hopefully, it wasn't too confusing. This chapter is probably more deserving of the title "The Confrontation," than the Buu/Bow one but, oh well, this title works for now. Thanks for sticking around and please let me know what you think!


	29. The Interloper

 The top of the Lookout was bustling and bright, and the sounds of laughter and lighthearted bickering filled the air.

Across the courtyard, Vegeta’s eyes met Goku’s for a flickering instant before the younger Saiyan looked away.

“He says he remembers it all. Says he was even in control at times,” Vegeta said to Dende, who was sitting cross legged a few paces away from where he stood. From beneath the shade of the temple overhang, the two of them watched the joyful happenings over the white-tiled patio.

“I would think as much,” Dende commented, sounding unsurprised by the information. “With the way he affected Buu. He is very strong to have been able to maintain his consciousness after getting absorbed. The others won’t remember what they did as Bow, and that’s very fortunate, but Goku will remember it all. In a way, he has lived through a trauma and, like you, will need to heal from it.”

Vegeta blinked and looked at his boots.

 

 

 

Vegeta was careful to avoid situations where he might be left alone with Goku. The Earth Saiyan didn’t appear interested in pursuing their last conversation any further, but nonetheless, hadn't seemed to let it go either. Over the following weeks after their secret confrontation in the guest wing, the younger Saiyan had become a kind of shadow on Vegeta. At all times, he was near.

Not long after Vegeta entered a room, he would begin to notice the tall, orange-clad figure very gradually gravitating toward him. At first he’d thought it was his own imagination, what with how naturally and unimposingly the man seemed to draw nearer. Goku was so graceful an unobvious in his advance that even in a crowded room, the hulking man would find his way to Vegeta with little obstacle. Vegeta found, when he wasn’t well enough on his guard, that he grew comfortably unperturbed by the man’s distant haunting, only realizing when it was too late how careless he’d gotten. Slowly, he’d become aware of the unmistakable presence at his back, the warmth of the other man’s body radiating through his clothes. On those startling occasions, Vegeta would jerk into action, immediately reasserting a distance between them, or discreetly reposition himself on the other side of some structural or human partition.

Vegeta wondered if this constant hawking Goku had taken up was a residual habit of Buu’s. The younger Saiyan had certainly never hovered around him this way before.

Then Vegeta thought about it. Had he? It almost seemed intuitive the way Goku trailed him now. It was almost as if he himself didn’t realize he was doing it. 

Soon after discovering that there would be no shaking his constant tail, the former prince saw no choice but to deliberately seek out Dende’s company; for whatever reason, Goku never followed him to his meetings with the Guardian. Vegeta suspected, however, that the man, who’d once shared a mind and body with Buu, was too ashamed of himself to encroach upon the Guardian’s virtuous presence-- and rightly so, Vegeta thought. The wayward hero didn’t deserve to share Dende’s company, not after the havoc he’d wreaked in Buu’s subconscious. Let him stew in solitude.

But then Vegeta began to notice that Goku himself seemed to vanish from time to time, and when the former prince asked offhandedly one day where the oaf had wandered off to, he was told that Goku had gone to meet with Dende.

Here was a concept Vegeta was not equipped to process.

What would Kakarot be doing with Dende? And what would Dende be doing with Kakarot, for that matter? What could the Guardian possibly have to say to _him_?

When Vegeta was with the Namekian, they spoke of highly complex and delicate issues, with which the prince would scarcely trust anyone else. He hardly thought Goku capable of profound thought, or discretion for that matter. The newly acquired knowledge of Goku and Dende’s secret meetings did not sit well with Vegeta but began to tug incessantly at him, keeping him up in the night and even sending him into idle fidgets during the day. Finally, his agitation getting the better of him, he decided to get to the bottom of the matter.

  

* * *

 

 

“What is the idiot doing coming here?” Vegeta demanded, bursting into the dining room.

The spacious room, as pale and modestly decorated as any other in the temple, was silent and vacant save for two occupants seated near the head of the long table.

Mr. Popo, regarding the intrusion with some mild alarm, stared from Dende to Vegeta for some time. Then, taking up his tea cup, he promptly stood up and left.

“Pardon me?” Dende said with polite surprise, once Mr. Popo had closed the door behind him, leaving them to talk in private.

“The idiot. The dolt.”

Dende blinked.

“The clown— _Kakarot!_ ” Vegeta blurted out, exasperated. “What business do you have with him?”

Dende only stared as he pieced together what was going on. Finally, his lips curved into a smile.

“Vegeta, you aren’t the only one who seeks my council. Everyone needs an ear every now and then— _certainly_ Goku.” Vegeta seemed to flinch at the name, but Dende continued. “He’s been through a lot. I don’t know if you realize but while everyone else has left to return to their homes, you and Goku remain here, using the temple to recuperate. You’re not the only one who needs time, Vegeta.”

Vegeta looked appalled at this suggestion and opened and closed his mouth repeatedly, not knowing where to start.

“So, you’re telling me that he comes to you so you’ll listen to him?”

“For the most part, yes.”

Vegeta crossed his arms, uncrossed them.

“That’s all?”

“Well, I can’t tell you exactly what we talk about any more than I would reveal to anyone else what you and I talk about in private. But yes,” he conceded with a shrug. “That’s pretty much what happens.”

“What do you mean you can’t talk about it?”

“He confides in me, Vegeta. Personal things. Things I believe he feels no one else would understand. And he has a right to that privacy.”

“ _No one else?_ That’s ridiculous, he has a wife, and—the loud one… _Krillin._ He has Krillin. And all those other prattling fools out there always following him around. Why doesn’t he speak to them?”

Dende shrugged again and poured himself more tea.

“Maybe he doesn’t feel like he can relate to them,” he offered at last, stirring the steaming liquid in the small ceramic cup. “Maybe he doesn’t think they’ll understand something as large and complicated as what he’s been through. And I don’t think he wants to burden them with it. Honestly, I understand. It’s a pretty heavy load to bear.”

“What _he’s_ been through? What _he’s..._ What about what _I’ve_ been through?” Vegeta crossed briskly to the other side of the room, made restless by the incredulity of the statement.

“Are you going to continue meeting privately with him?” Vegeta asked, turning to look seriously at the young guardian stills seated at the table.

Dende couldn’t keep down his laughter at that. “Of course! If he comes to me. I’m not going to turn him away, Vegeta.”

The former prince looked almost betrayed. He grasped a few moments more for something to say, but finally turned on his heal and stormed out of the room without another glance in the direction of the stunned Namekian.

Seconds later, he stormed back in, but seemed to have his temper under moderate control.

“You understand,” he began after a deep breath. “What he’s done, don’t you?”

Dende gave a patient sigh then spoke very carefully. “Yes, I understand.”

“What do you understand then—and don’t say that he’s the reason Buu kept me alive, because you saw what the man did in the guise of _‘keeping me alive’_.”

Noting the sneer on Vegeta’s face and the quickly thinning veil of calm, Dende took a moment to compose his words. “Vegeta,” he began carefully. “Goku was in everything Buu did.”

Vegeta blinked, processes the possibility that Dende might be agreeing with him.

“And he’s the reason,” Dende went on. “That you’re alive.”

Vegeta threw up his hands.

“Oh, you’re so—” He clenched his jaw and appeared to fight back some profanity. “You’re so quick to defend him, aren’t you? After all he’s done!”

“Vegeta, please listen,” Dende said softly.

The blue-clad man remained silent but wouldn’t look at him. Instead he stood on the other side of the room, staring resolutely out the window.

“When Buu killed Bow,” he continued. “It wasn’t just his creation that he was killing.”

“Yes I know,” Vegeta said dismissively. “Bow was like kin to Buu. If you’re going to say that it’s a testament to Goku’s influence over Buu, I—“

“No, Vegeta. I mean, he wasn’t just killing Bow. He was killing Gohan and Gotan. Buu sacrificed a part of himself to ensure your safety, but Goku sacrificed his sons.”

He couldn’t see Vegeta’s face but by the way his fists fell out of their tight knots, Dende gathered he’d been heard.


End file.
